An Illusion of Life
by Eleantris
Summary: Every night, Molly dreams of her Mum and a tall, impressive man with crocodile skin boots. Forced to live with her Dad and Judy after Alex's death, Molly's world is falling apart, but could her dreams be more than mere dreams? Life is just an illusion...
1. Hate

_**Hello, and welcome to my new Ashes to Ashes story! As you might know from voting on my poll and reading my other stories, this is going to be quite different from the Ashes to Ashes stories I've already written. Mostly because it's based on Molly (though don't worry, there will be plenty of Galex – you might just have to be patient :P ), and also as there will be some darker themes in here, and even some more supernatural aspects. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it all the same and as always, reviews, whether they contain praise or constructive criticism, are always more than welcome! So, on with the show...**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes. **_

_**Chapter 1 - Hate**_

* * *

_Friday, 18__th__ July, 2008_

Looking dully around, Molly pulled her cardigan closer around herself and shivered. The breeze was unnaturally cold for a summer's day and the sun up above seemed to be struggling to penetrate the thin layers of grey cloud; but Molly decided that perhaps it was just her who couldn't feel its warmth.

She felt numb inside, almost as if she was so overwhelmed by the tangled mix of grief, loss and hopelessness inside her that she couldn't actually _feel_ any of it properly. But there was one thing Molly knew she felt and that was that she hated this.

She hated all the robotic looking people stood around in black, with blank looks of sadness on their faces. Not because she thought they were truly grieving for her Mum, but because they felt they should. She hated the solemn priest who kept calling her Mum 'Alexandra' and the elderly DCI who was going on about what an asset 'DI Drake' was to the force. And most of all, Molly hated that she was even there at all, and she hated the gaunt, greasy-haired man who had landed her in this situation. She hoped they'd find him dead somewhere, ripped into mangled pieces by a savage dog. In fact, she actually hoped they wouldn't find him, because that would mean that no-one even cared enough to look.

Staring at the floor with a look of mournful anger on her face, Molly thought of how her Mum wasn't 'Alexandra', she was Alex. The name Alexandra made her think of some elderly, regal lady with a harsh tongue and a fondness for needlework. Her Mum was Alex, and she was none of those things. And another thing was the annoying repetition of the words 'DI Drake'. That wasn't a name, or even a proper person. It was just a job, a rank. Her Mum was Alex Drake and she was funny, understanding, always took care of her and had an unhealthy obsession with chocolate cheesecake from Marks and Spencer's. She wasn't _just_ 'DI Drake'. But none of the people around her knew any of that, because they never actually _knew_ her Mum. The only person they knew was 'DI Drake'. Stubbornly, Molly had tried to insist that the only people that deserved to be at the funeral were her, Evan, her Nanny and her Granddad, but to no avail. And two people that she definitely didn't want there were her Dad and his girlfriend Judy. What had they ever done for her Mum, except make her life harder?

Molly had cried herself out during the service, in amongst the abundant flower displays and throngs of uniformed mourners. Now her face felt damp and stung from the salt in her tears. All the robotic looking people seemed to be milling about, saying to everyone – Evan, her Nanny, her Granddad, her Dad and Judy – that they were sorry for their loss. No-one thought to say anything to her. No-one wanted to look her in the eye and say that they were sorry for _her_ loss. Which actually, Molly decided, was fine, because she hadn't _lost_ anyone. They made it sound as though her Mum had just gone missing, and she hadn't. She had died because some pathetic, crack-head criminal decided to put a bullet through her head. And Molly had no idea why everyone else wanted to pretend otherwise.

"Molly," Evan said quietly as he placed a hand on her arm. "Detective Superintendent Harper's leaving; do you want to come and thank her for coming? I think the great-aunts from Australia need to be going soon too."

Molly scowled – not at Evan, but at the floor and his words in general. "No, I don't," she told him bluntly, feeling like an iron lump had lodged itself in her throat. "They can leave, I don't care. I don't see why they came in the first place." Her voice was wobbly and she felt like crying again, or kicking something.

Evan gave a tired, exhausted sigh and the next thing Molly knew he had put his arms around her thin frame, pulling her into a tight hug. "Come here, Scrap," he said gently into her hair. "Believe it or not, all these people are here because they cared about your Mum. Now I know that you feel like no-one could ever be missing her as much as you are, and that may be true, but they still care and want to pay their respects." He pulled back a little way and offered her a small smile. "Come on, Scrap, you've got to put on a brave face." He held his hand out for Molly to take, but despite her best efforts to 'put on a brave face', she didn't feel any more courageous. She just felt weak and bereaved, and completely alone. Her Mum had told her that it was a hard, cruel and twisted-up world, but that if she listened to her, she might just get through it. She was shot dead just half an hour later. So what was Molly supposed to do now to protect herself from a hard, cruel and twisted-up world? She bet that_ he_ didn't think about that as he pulled the trigger.

* * *

Superintendent Harper was a tall, fifty-something year old woman who looked like she belonged on a posh country estate somewhere with a husband called Geoffrey, and Molly recognised her immediately. She politely shook Evan's hand and then looked down at Molly as if she had some unfortunate disfigurement. "I'm sorry about your Mummy, Molly," she said in a voice that reminded her of a nursery school teacher. "None of us will ever forget her and the work she did. You should be so, so proud of her."

Molly just nodded silently, her eyes fixed on the floor. A few minutes later as she watched her walk away with some colleague or other, she heard the older woman murmur, "Poor little mite, God knows what'll happen there. I feel so sorry for her, losing her Mum on her tenth birthday like that."

It took all the self-restraint Molly had in that moment not to burst out and shout viciously, 'Twelve. I'm _twelve_!' And anyway, Molly thought, if she had promoted her Mum to DCI when she went up for it the previous year, then maybe she would never have been killed. She knew that Evan would tell her that she shouldn't think like that, but she couldn't help it. To her mind, there were so many people who could have just done things differently and prevented her Mum's murder, herself included. She should have stayed in the car like her Mum asked her to, instead of stupidly running out into the crowd. At least then, she might have been able to talk to Layton, get it all sorted and then simply take her to school like on any other normal day. Or maybe Layton would have shot her dead right there and then, Molly didn't know. But she still should have listened to her; she should have done what her Mum told her to. Instead, she had run out to her and put the whole operation, including her Mum's life, in jeopardy. Even though Evan repeatedly told her it wasn't, Molly couldn't help but think sometimes that maybe it really had been all her fault.

* * *

After all the stony-faced mourners, most of whom Molly didn't even recognise, had trickled away, Evan took her back into the church to say a final goodbye to her Mum before the coffin was taken to be buried. Only Molly, Evan, her Dad and Judy were to be there for the burial; she had wanted her Nanny and Granddad to be there too, but they couldn't stand for very long anymore and the nurses had said it would be advisable for them to return to the home. She didn't like those nurses; they always talked to her Nanny as though she was a toddler and busy-bodied around her Granddad, doing things for him that he was more than capable of doing himself. Just because he was partially deaf, Molly knew they all assumed that he was blind and everything else too.

The sight of the coffin triggered another onslaught of tears and her stomach felt like it was ripping itself apart as she thought of the fact that her _Mum_ was actually laid in that wooden box. The burial just made everything seem so much more horrifically real somehow, and she hated it. She hated that she could barely see the ground before her as her Mum was lowered into the soil because of her tears, and she hated that Evan was the only other person crying. Her Dad just stared down at the coffin, never blinking, his expression never flinching. There was a hard look of grievance in his eyes, but that was all. No tears, no clenched fists, no sign of devastation. Molly felt like screaming at him, to remind him that he had once loved the woman who was now laid six feet underground, had fathered a child with her; he could at least show some semblance of grief. What was wrong with him? Her Mum was dead, and he couldn't even bring himself to cry. She had said something much to the same effect to Evan earlier, and he had just said that different people had different ways of mourning for someone. Molly didn't bother to say that maybe some people just didn't care.

Lifting her eyes to the polished marble gravestone that stood at the head of the hole in the ground, Molly slowly read again the words that she had chosen to be inscribed in neat, silver lettering. It was only when the flowing words started to blur before her eyes that she realised she was crying once again, tears streaming unashamedly down her face. There was a burning, searing hole in her chest that ached to see her Mum again, to feel her arms around her and smell the familiar scent of her perfume as she held her close. She felt like shouting and screaming at the rest of the world and whatever divine forces there might be out there for letting this happen. How was this fair? She didn't deserve this, did she? Molly was sure that her Mum certainly didn't. How could anyone expect her to believe in God when this was the sort of thing he let happen?

_Here lies Alexandra Caroline Drake,_

_Beloved god-daughter and devoted mother to Molly._

_1973 – 2008._

_May she rest in peace._

_And when she shall die, take her and cut her out in little stars,_

_And she will make the face of heaven so fine_

_That all the world will be in love with night._

A strangled, desperate sob erupted into the summer air and it took Molly a moment to realise that she was the one sobbing, her throat rasping and tears running furiously from her eyes. The last three lines came from her Mum's favourite Shakespeare play, not that anyone else had known to put them on there. Not even Evan had known that her Mum loved to sit and read Shakespeare with her; Molly didn't really understand a lot of it most of the time, but Alex had always stopped to explain the important parts. Molly had always taken the things her Mum did with her for granted, but now she would never do anything with her again. Bile rose up in her throat as the guilt once again coursed through her veins and she turned to the side, burying her face into Evan's chest. She just wanted to block out the entire world and everything in it forever, and simply dissolve into a nothingness that didn't matter. At least that way she didn't have to deal with any of this. She hated everything.

That was the day Molly buried her Mum, and to her, she was the best Mum in the entire world. She thought it was the worst day of her life. She was wrong.

* * *

_Thursday, 31__st__ July, 2008_

The worst day of Molly's life was the day a hard-faced, severe looking judge brought down his gavel in court and announced, "Custody granted to Peter Drake and Judy Davenport." In that moment, she felt like kicking and hitting him until he changed the verdict or rewound time. He was just another person to add to the list of people she hated. After her Mum had died, the bottom had fallen out of Molly's world, but she was still desperately hanging on to a thread. But that day, the 31st of August, just a month after her Mum had died, she finally let go and just let herself fall through the gaping black hole beneath her. There was nothing left to hang on to anymore. She hated everything.

* * *

_**So there you are, that's the first chapter! Hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading, and there will be more soon. :P**_

_**X =D**_


	2. Compensation

_**Hello again! Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews for the first chapter. I hope you continue to enjoy the story, and here's the next instalment! :P**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes. **_

_**Chapter 2 - Compensation**_

* * *

_Friday, 8__th__ August, 2008_

Molly knew that Evan was trying to put on a brave face, but she could see the desperate, strangled look inside his eyes. It was weird; she had always known he was quite old – sixty something – but she'd never actually seen him look it. But as her Dad and Judy approached from the car, the lines on his face looked deeper, his shoulders sagging slightly as he let out a tired sigh. "You'll be alright, Scrap," he tried to reassure her. "You've got your BlackBerry, haven't you? You can email me on that and I'll ring straight back, I promise, no matter what time of the day it is."

Molly just nodded, knowing that if she tried to speak she would burst into tears, and she didn't want to give her Dad the satisfaction. The aching hole in her chest hurt even more than it had at the funeral, the torn edges of it now raw as Molly realised that she really had lost all she had to lose: her Mum, her school friends, her security, her home, her lifestyle and now, her god-father. It wasn't fair. Just because her Dad now had a 'stable income', a 'family setup and support system' (Judy) and a 'large accommodating home', it didn't mean that she would be better off with him. Apparently, the stupid judge didn't agree, along with the patronizing social-worker who smiled way too much for anyone's liking and had said that Molly needed a 'completely fresh start in order to recover and move on'. To her mind, all she needed and wanted was to curl up in a ball in some dark room somewhere and not have to feel anything ever again.

"Ready to go, Molly?" her Dad asked, his hands casually in his pockets.

Again, she gave a small nod and turned to Evan, trying desperately not to cry as he gave her one last hug goodbye. The thought of simply running for it, as fast she could briefly crossed Molly's mind, and the idea was quite suddenly appealing. But where would she go? There was no-one she could run to anymore, nowhere she could go; she was alone. "Look after yourself, Scrap, stay out of trouble," Evan told her in a voice that was probably meant to sound cheerier than it did. "I love you."

Sniffing slightly to push back the tears that were stinging painfully behind her eyes, Molly nodded and said in a broken whisper, "I love you too."

* * *

There was a thick, awkward silence in the air for the first half an hour of the car journey, but Molly didn't care. She just stared unseeingly out of the window, not wanting to talk to neither her Dad nor Judy anyway. She didn't really care if she never spoke to anyone properly ever again. Molly was in an almost emotionless bubble, a never-ending void stretching within her that left her feeling numb and completely empty.

"I think you'll like Cheshire, Molly," Judy said from the passenger seat, moving to briefly glance back at Molly. When she saw the blunt, uncaring look on her face, she turned around again. Who was she kidding? Molly had lived in London her whole life; she enjoyed the hustle and bustle of a big city. She was going to hate Cheshire.

There was a hidden, desperate part of Molly that said she should be crying; she should feel distraught, horrified about being dragged away from the only place she could call home. But she just couldn't. Instead she simply felt lost, as though she was drifting about senselessly in limbo. Molly truly wished she was, but she knew that wasn't the case. This was her reality now. Scowling out of the window as they passed a sign telling them that they were nearing a service station, Molly thought of how Judy had said she thought she'd _like_ Cheshire. Was that her idea of a joke?

She _liked_ living in London. She _liked_ staying with Evan. She _liked_ having a Mum that was alive. She most certainly did not _like_ being taken to the north of England to a house she'd never seen before in her life, just weeks after her Mum had died, and being expected to simply make a new start. Molly hadn't even had a taste of it yet, but she had already decided to hate everything about her new life. Because it didn't have her Mum, or Evan, in it.

"Ready for some lunch, Molly?" her Dad asked, before indicating to get off at the services anyway. There had obviously been no point in him asking, so Molly decided there was no point in answering.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later and Molly found herself sat in McDonalds, staring blankly at her chicken nuggets as her Dad took a large bite out of his burger and Judy tried to eat her chicken burger as delicately as possible. By rights, the McDonalds should have helped to lift her mood slightly – Molly only ever had McDonalds as a treat. But all she could do was stare at it, thinking of how much her Mum had disapproved of fast food. Not barely eating it made her feel a little guilty, because she was sure her Dad was just trying to make her feel better, in his own way, but she couldn't help it. He had ruined the chance of ever making her feel better the day he and Judy had won the case for her custody. Molly knew that was a pretty rotten thing to think about her own Dad, but this was the last thing she needed. She had never been so against anything in her life than she was against him pulling her out of the world she grew up in, the world she knew like the back of her hand.

"Come on, Molly, you need to eat something," Judy told her gently, pushing the chicken nuggets further towards her.

"I'm not really hungry," Molly said bluntly, still looking at the nuggets with her Mum's words swimming around her head. _'They're full of saturated fat and additives, Molls. You don't want to be eating them too often.'_

"Molly," Judy tried again, her voice the epitome of well-practiced patience and gentleness, "I know you're extremely upset right now, but you really do need to eat still."

"Judy's right, Molly," her Dad added, his food all gone. Her Mum's death was really having a great effect on him then, she thought to herself. "Please eat at least half your nuggets."

"Stop telling me what to do," Molly said stubbornly, realising that she was scowling down at the nuggets and fries as though they personally had done something to offend her. Just to shut her Dad and Judy up, she picked one up and angrily took a bite out of it, chewing viciously. She swallowed. "Happy now?"

Her Dad let out a resigned sigh that said he knew he should tell her off for being rude, but he didn't see the point. Molly carried on eating the nuggets, chewing with more force than necessary until she truly didn't want any more. "Finished," she muttered, glancing up at her Dad and Judy.

"Right," Judy said in what Molly thought was meant to be a bright voice, "Let's hit the road again. Do you want me to drive now, Pete?"

"Nah, it's okay. Only an hour or so to go now anyway."

* * *

The rest of the journey passed in relative silence as Molly sat, feeling too numb to particularly feel anything or think straight. With every glance outside the window though, her stomach knotted up a little way and by the time they were off the motorway, she felt like being sick. Molly didn't know whether it was car-sickness, the chicken nuggets, or simply fear and trepidation about what lay ahead, but she felt like she wanted to throw up all her insides until she passed out.

"Nearly there, Molly," Judy told her, trying, Molly thought, to instil some semblance of excitement or anticipation within her. It didn't work. In fact, it just made the idea of being sick over the back of her and the passenger seat much more appealing.

She couldn't help but mutter, "Yay," sarcastically under her breath as the car turned into a gravel driveway and the SatNav announced, ominously, 'You have reached your destination.' Molly felt like she had just been driven into a prison that she could never escape from.

* * *

Molly's first thought was that Judy and her Dad's place was big. As in, massive. Well, Molly corrected herself; it was more just _Judy's _place. Her Dad would never have been able to afford a house like it on his own. Judy worked as a senior journalist for some big newspaper in Manchester, which apparently raked in quite a bit just judging from the outside of the house. Molly hadn't even gone in yet. On the other end of the scale, her Dad was writing for a small-time local magazine after finally giving up on the novel that had only ever existed in his head anyway. Looking around at the tall hedge that separated the house and curving driveway from the road, Molly wondered if all of it was supposed to impress her. Maybe it was some form of compensation from whatever divine forces out there that had let Arthur Layton kill her Mum. _Huh, nice try. _She'd much rather have her Mum back.

Gravel crunched under Molly's feet as she followed her Dad and Judy to the large wooden front door, decorated by thick glass windows and a heavy, shining doorknocker with matching letterbox. Suddenly, her stomach lurched and all Molly wanted was to see her own front door, the paint around the frame fading slightly as her Mum fumbled with the key in the lock. An unbearable yearning for her Mum hit her like a blow to the chest and it was all she could do to not burst into tears right there and then. She wanted her Mum back.

But of course, Judy and her Dad never noticed the strangled, grief-stricken look on Molly's face. Instead, Judy just pushed the door open wide and said, with a welcoming smile, "Welcome to your new home, Molly." She then carried rambling on as Molly blankly followed her inside, feeling sick to the stomach. Judy was pointing out various doors to her, saying which the downstairs toilet was, the kitchen, the lounge...She didn't take any of it in.

* * *

Molly just followed her around as Judy showed her the shining marble worktops in the kitchen, the massive plasma screen in the lounge and the contemporary artwork that lined the perfectly painted walls. Molly thought at times that there was a part of her that was enjoying being able to show off her house to someone new, or maybe she was just trying to make her feel welcome, she wasn't sure. Judy was one of those people who are always quite hard to read; you could hardly ever tell what her intentions were. She dressed quite stylishly, Molly supposed, for her age and such, but there was an almost _too_ polished air to her appearance that never particularly warmed Molly to her. She was tall, quite slim, thought not flat-stomach thin, and Molly always got the impression that Judy liked to pass of her coppery brown hair colour as real, but she could occasionally see the mousy brown roots whenever she left it too long between trips to the hairdressers.

"Molly? Molly, are you okay?"

Molly blinked, bringing her gaze back to Judy as she picked up one of the suitcases that her Dad had brought in from the car. "Huh?"

Judy sighed and gave her sort-of stepdaughter a small smile. "I said did you want to see your room? We got decorators in and an interior designer to sort it all out while we were down in London, that way it'd all be ready for you."

"Um, yeah, okay..." Molly trailed off awkwardly, "Thanks." Half of her kind of appreciated the effort that Judy and her Dad had gone to in order to accommodate her, but another half was pretty angry at the calm way in which she was being eased into her new home, as though having a specially designed bedroom and plasma screen TV would make up for the way they had ripped her from where she belonged. If she was honest, Molly didn't know which half of herself to side with.

* * *

Looking around, Molly had to admit that she was impressed. But only for the simple reason that the room was proof that her Dad had actually listened to at least some of the things she had told him in the past. Three of the walls were a gleaming white, with the longest one along the side having been covered in a dark purple wallpaper with an ornate design embossed onto it. A double bed with purple covers was pushed up against the feature wall and as she looked around, Molly found it hard to take it all in. The desk and brand new Apple computer, the curved bookcase in one corner, the cosy-looking window-seat, the door that must have led to an adjoining bathroom. Molly clenched her fists to stop them from shaking.

"Pete said you liked purple, so we went with that," Judy said after a few moments of silence. Molly gave an almost imperceptible nod and Judy turned to leave. "I'll just go get a few more of your bags then..."

Molly just nodded, more to herself than Judy, and turned away to look out of the window. Her fists were still clenched as she looked out at the back garden, scanning her gaze over the large, bright green lawn – not a brown patch in sight, decked seating area and the brand new trampoline that stood proudly right at the end. Molly frowned and stepped closer to the window to get a better look at the trampoline that had obviously been put in for her benefit. She could hardly picture Judy jumping up and down on it. As she felt her fingernails digging into her palms, a surge of anger came from nowhere and ran through her veins, making her blood boil.

"You like your room then, Molly?" her Dad asked as he walked in with another suitcase and placed it next to the bed.

Molly turned, and her Dad was surprised to see the cold, raging look of anger on her face. "What is this?" she asked, gesturing tearfully towards the room in general. With her Dad in front of her, rather than Judy, Molly didn't feel the need to be as polite and quiet about everything crashing around her. Just what did they think they were playing at? "Some kind of compensation?"

Pete stared at his daughter, surprised at her tearful question, the anger in her voice. "Compensation? What are you going on about, Molly?"

"A fancy room, big TV, new computer, a _trampoline_?" Molly shouted, tears streaming freely down her face now as devastation and furious energy rippled through her body. "I don't want any of this!" She let out a loud sob, her nose running a little as her salt tears stung at her cheeks. "I want my Mum."

Looking at his daughter as she dropped down unceremoniously to the floor in a mess of hysterical sobs and hot, streaming tears, Pete let out a long sigh and left the suitcase where it was. He stepped around to the other side of the bed and sat on it, his eyes still fixed on where Molly was hunched up on the floor by the window. "I know, Molly," he said quietly, glancing behind him to see if Judy had come back up yet. It wasn't that he didn't feel care or sympathy for Molly's distress and complete sense of desolation, but he had no idea what to do about it. "But I can't give you your Mum..." He looked at her sadly as Molly continued sobbing, her knees tucked up against her chest and face buried in them.

He sighed again and, accepting that Judy wasn't coming up anytime soon, he moved down onto the floor beside his daughter and hesitantly reached his arm out. It hovered for a moment in the air above her shoulders before he eventually rested it around her, the movements feeling almost stiff and awkward. "Molly, look at me," he said quietly, watching hesitantly as Molly slowly lifted her head up and, sniffing, turned to meet his gaze.

"What?" she muttered, glaring at him a little with red, puffy, watery eyes.

"You know..." Pete paused, glancing up again at the bedroom door, wishing his partner would come in soon. She was a woman, she was better at this sort of thing. "If I could give you your Mum, I would. You do know that, don't you?"

"No I don't," Molly muttered, turning her head away as more tears welled in her eyes. Shrugging off his arm, she shifted away from her Dad and hugged her knees closer to her chest, as though that would somehow cause her to melt into the background to a place where she wouldn't have to feel the emotions that were causing some kind of painful tornado in her chest. "You barely care that Mum's dead," she told him, her glare now piercing the white carpet. Deep down, mixed up in the tornado, there was something that told her she wasn't being all that fair to her Dad, but she ignored it. There were parts of what she was saying that were true... "You abandoned me when I was six months old, and now you're just annoyed that you're stuck with me again!"

"Molly," Pete said, his eyes wide as he looked at his daughter, stunned. "That's not true."

"Yes it is," Molly retorted stubbornly, her face dull as she stared straight ahead, tears still trickling solemnly from her eyes. "Even when you try to hug me, it's all stiff, like it's something you feel you have to do, not something you want to do."

"Molly," Pete sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stood up and sat on the edge of the bed again, giving his daughter the space she seemed to want. "Look, I'm not your Mum, and I'm not going to try to be. But...I do love you, whatever you think, and taking you in and hugging you isn't just something I feel I have to do...It's just..." he paused, sighing again as Molly remained unresponsive, her eyes looking at anything but him. "It's hard for me, because I don't see you much – "

"Well that's hardly my fault, is it?" Molly snapped at him tearfully, her head finally turning to face him. "You're the one that swans off on holidays to places like Canada with Judy all the time and always finds some sort of reason to cancel on me... You're not bothered about me, you don't care about me, and I'm just a responsibility that you've been lumped with, admit it!"

"That's not true, Molly," Pete told her again, beginning to lose his patience. He had no idea how to get through to her – she was a distraught, grieving, almost teenage girl, for heaven's sakes. He hadn't a clue what to say or do to make her feel better. "I don't know what you want me to say or do. I can't bring Al-your Mum back, but both me and Judy are trying our best to help you. You just don't seem to want to be helped..." he trailed off and sighed, realising that he'd probably said the wrong thing.

He was right. "Well maybe that's because I _don't_ want your help!" Molly shouted at him as she jumped to her feet and wrenched open the nearest door she could see – the one that led to the adjoining bathroom. "And I certainly don't want Judy's!" More tears leaked from her eyes as she glared at her Dad, sitting clueless on the bed, "Why don't you just leave me alone?" she finally snapped, before she slammed the door shut behind her and Pete heard her sobbing again, devastated hiccups carrying through the door.

* * *

_**I did say this story might be quite upsetting and angsty, certainly for the first third or so. :D I hope you'll stick with me though, because it will get better! Thank you very much for reading, and please review. **_

_**X =D**_


	3. Unfair

_**Wow, thank you all so much for all your lovely reviews so far! I always want to know what the readers are thinking – whether it be praise or constructive criticism – so don't ever be afraid to comment! Anyway, I'm glad you seem to be enjoying the story so far, and here's the next chapter!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes; if I did, I'd be a lot more awesome. :P**_

_**Chapter 3 - Unfair**_

* * *

_Friday, 8__th__ August, 2008_

Pete walked into the kitchen, heaving a heavy sigh as he crossed over to where Judy was sat at the kitchen table. She looked up as he sat down next to her and ran a hand through his hair. "What happened?"

"I don't know what to say to her," Pete sighed, looking sideways at his partner as he rested his head against one hand. "She's lost her Mum and thinks everyone else around her is to blame. She just keeps going on about how I don't love her and how we think she's just a burden we've been lumped with."

"She said that?" Judy asked, astonished. "If she was a burden, why would we have gone to so much trouble to try and look after her and make her comfortable here?" She sighed with a disappointed look in her eyes, pursing her lips for a short second before reaching out for Pete's hand. Her voice was strained as she spoke, betraying an underlying anger that she was trying not to show. "I'm not trying to speak ill of the dead or anything like that, Pete, but she seems as stubborn and gritty as her mother. She's not going to believe that either of us want to help her or make sure she's okay."

Letting out a long sigh, Pete nodded and ran a hand through his once neat black hair again. "I know, don't worry about it... Alex was hard work sometimes, and Molly's the same. It's just... What does she really expect me to do? She looks at me like _I'm_ the one who put a bullet in her Mum's skull."

"Right," Judy said loudly, as though she suddenly had some ingenious plan that would solve all the problems of the world. She stood up and carefully tucked her chair back under the table. "Where is she now?"

"In her bathroom," Pete told her without getting up. Instead he just sighed again and slumped his head into his hands. He might have tried to get custody of his daughter after Alex's death, and he did genuinely believe she would be better off with him and Judy in the long run, but he hadn't quite prepared himself for this. He had known Molly would be extremely distraught for the first few months, but he hadn't been expecting this onslaught of accusations and tirade of fury from her. As Judy made her way out to the hall and towards the stairs, he looked up again and called out, "Tread carefully, the last thing she shouted at me was that she didn't want our help, and especially not yours."

"Don't worry about it, Pete," Judy called back, already beginning to climb the stairs, looking like a woman on a mission. "I'll talk to her."

* * *

Molly hadn't even looked around her bathroom when she flew into it, a whirlwind of rage and wild emotions. Sobbing and digging her fingernails into her palms, she sank down, back against the bathtub as she buried her face in her knees and cried. She felt like someone had stabbed her in the chest with a knife when her Mum was shot, but now, someone was twisting that knife and pushing it deeper until her chest felt tight, like she'd never be able to breathe properly again. "It's not fair," she spat angrily under her breath, over and over again.

And it was true – it wasn't fair. What had she ever done to deserve this? What had her Mum ever done, more to the point? She didn't want to be here. This wasn't where she belonged. She belonged in London, with her school friends and Evan and her Mum. She belonged in the place where her Mum hugged and kissed her before she went to bed, a place where Evan would take her out for pizza on weekends and where she could go shopping with her friends on a Friday night and know that she was going home to her Mum and a house she loved afterwards. Another loud sob erupted from within her as she thought of the house she had left behind, her familiar bedroom where her Mum's scent was everywhere and where she had memories of creeping out onto the landing in the middle of the night and into her Mum's room. She would climb up into her Mum's bed and bury herself under the covers, snuggling as close as she could to her. She couldn't do that anymore, and she never would be able to.

"Molly?" A voice broke through her thoughts, shattering the happy memories.

Lifting her head up to look towards the door, Molly hugged her knees closer as her sobs stopped abruptly and she frowned at the door. A gentle knock sounded again and Judy's voice drifted through, her tone deliberately soft, "Molly, can I come in?"

"No." The reply was out of her mouth before she could even think about it. She didn't want Judy playing 'mummy' and trying to pretend that everything was alright. It wasn't alright, and she knew it. "Go away."

"Molly," Judy said again, her voice still soft, but Molly had heard that tone before. It was the same persuasive, patronizing tone the social worker had used when she had tried to persuade her that moving to live with her Dad and Judy was the best thing for her in the long run. "I'm going to come in, okay? I'm going to come in and we can just talk, yes?"

Muttering "No," under her breath again, but knowing it was useless, Molly let out a resigned sigh and shifted herself to face away from the door, her arms tightening around her knees as she scowled down at the floor.

Judy paused in the doorway for a moment, looking down at the young girl who was hunched up beside the bathtub, facing away from her. Biting her lip momentarily, she brushed her hair back from her eyes and moved to sit down next to Molly. Her hand hovered close to the young girl's shoulder for a moment before Judy decided against trying to comfort her and rested it in her lap instead. A dense silence hung over the two of them for a few minutes as Molly sat in glum, tearful silence and Judy stared at her dejected face, wondering what on earth to say.

"Molly," she broke the silence with the same soft voice that people use when trying to calm a screaming baby. "I know how upset you are about your Mum, but I also know that you don't really want to cut yourself off from the rest of the world. You are not just a responsibility that your Dad and I have been 'lumped with', as you put it. We want the best for you."

"Well maybe the best thing is for you to leave me alone," Molly told her stubbornly, shifting her body away from her again. Her London accent sounded hard against Judy's higher-class version of the Mancunian one and echoed slightly on the white tiled walls.

"That's not true." Reaching out, Judy hesitantly placed a hand on Molly's shoulder, her arm slightly tense as she waited for the young girl to violently shrug her off, but she never did. Molly just leant away from her touch, her head lashing round to glare at her before she returned her gaze to the floor by her feet. The searing hole in her chest was still there, and Molly was so sure it always would be. The pain and grief that was coursing through her body felt like it was never going to go away, and she truly believed she would never escape the nightmare her world had become. How could everything change so quickly in the space of one summer?

"Molly, don't shut us out. All we're doing is trying to help you and make things a little easier. I know your Dad hasn't always been around, and I know that I can never replace your Mum, but we do want to try and make things better. This isn't the end of everything, you know."

Molly didn't miss a beat before replying, her voice broken and tearful. "Yes it is."

Sighing, Judy tried to place a hand on her shoulder again, but it was viciously shrugged off. "Molly-"

"I want to die." She stated plainly. There was a hard edge to her voice as it cracked that made Judy recoil slightly, her eyes widening. "I want to die so I don't have to be here." Molly's voice was raw and hard as she spoke and for a moment, Judy was sure she meant every word. And when she turned around to face her, eyes filled with fire and tears, Judy could predict her next words. "What's the point in it all anyway?"

"Molly, don't say things like that," Judy murmured, again going back to try and put an arm around her.

"Don't tell me what to do!"

In one sudden movement, Molly had hit out at Judy's arm and jumped to her feet, tears streaming down her face as her messed up hair fell into her eyes. There was a wild, unwavering look of anger in her eyes that caused Judy's heart to beat a little faster, worry for her partner's daughter increasing exponentially. She was twelve for God's sakes, she wouldn't even think of doing something like that. Twelve year olds didn't commit suicide, right? She had certainly never written an article about it.

"Well stop being silly then," Judy told her, genuine worry and panic seeping into her voice now as she stood up too and took a step towards Molly. "You don't want to die at all, Molly; that's a ridiculous thing to say. There are people in this world that are robbed of their lives every day, people who deserved to live, just like your Mum. She wouldn't want you to say or think stupid things like that, Molly."

Rage flashing in her eyes, Molly shouted at her, "Don't tell me what my Mum would or wouldn't have wanted! Why don't you just go away, leave me alone and get back to your nice little life? I don't need you, or any of this!" With that she ran out of the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind her in Judy's face before flinging herself on the bed and pulling the covers up over her head. Curling up into the tightest ball she could manage, Molly hugged her knees again and cried, tears running freely down her face as she sobbed and hiccupped until she could barely breathe. She did want to die. At least then she wouldn't have to deal with any of this; what was the point in living when a hole the size of the burning one in her chest had been blown in your life? None, Molly thought bitterly, absolutely none.

* * *

Three or four weeks ago, everything had been normal. She had been looking forward to her birthday and after that, the summer holidays. She and her Mum hadn't booked anything yet, but Molly knew her Mum had kept hinting at maybe going to Paris for a week or two, to see the Eiffel Tower and the art galleries. She had been just a normal school girl, with good grades, some nice friends and a Mum and godfather who always told her how much they loved her. And now, in the space of just a few weeks, her whole summer, and her life, had been torn apart by one bullet. For what felt like the millionth time, Molly found herself thinking those three words that had been repetitively on her mind ever since the day Arthur Layton invaded their lives. It wasn't fair.

* * *

A few hours later and Molly's wild sobs had subsided, the wetness drying on her cheeks as she slowly fell asleep with her knees still tucked tightly under her chin, as though to move out of her foetal position would be to allow the aching hole in her chest to rip open wider, burning in her lungs and stomach. The time for tears had passed as her eyes dried up and fluttered to a close, tear tracks engrained on her face. She drifted off to sleep with emotions churning heavily in her stomach, wishing she could be five years old and in her Mum's bed again, snuggled up against her side.

And that was the first night that Molly dreamt of her Mum and four other people she had never met or seen before. A sexist, misogynistic man with a moustache, a cautious one with drainpipe jeans who always seemed to get things wrong, a young girl with dark hair and an Essex accent, and the mysterious man with an impressive stance, moody pout, long black coat and crocodile skin boots.

* * *

_***Cue dramatic music*. Thank you very much for reading, and please review! Or I will send bloodthirsty house elves round to your houses... Nah, just kidding! :P Thanks again, and in case I don't update any of my Ashes stories before Sunday, Happy Easter to you all!**_

_**X =D**_


	4. Dreaming

_**Okay, mega-long chapter here (near on 5,000 words without A/Ns!) and I'm afraid to say this A/N might be mega-long too. :P I just want to say that these first four chapters were pre-written, which is why updating for this has been reasonably quick. From now on though, I'll be writing them on demand like with my other stories, so it might take slightly longer for them to get to you now. I also want to give a quick shout out and massive thank you to TheFatalIllusion and Jazzola for reading through these four chapters for me and giving me their opinion. Anyway, so I think that's about it, apart from to say thank you to all of your for reading and reviewing, and here's the next chapter! Enjoy. **_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes. :D**_

_**Chapter 4 - Dreaming**_

* * *

_Friday, 8__th__ August, 2008_

"I'll just go check on Molly," Pete said as he and Judy reached the top of the stairs, the lights turned out and house locked up for the night.

Judy gave him a small smile and nodded, "Okay. I'm going to get into bed, see you in a minute."

Returning the smile, Pete nodded and watched as she walked into their bedroom before he turned and crossed the hall to Molly's door. As quietly as he could, he pushed it open a little way and peered round, his eyes straining in the dark to make out the figure of his daughter, curled up under the duvet, seemingly sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her up, Pete drew back and quietly pulled the door closed again, sighing in what he knew shouldn't be relief, but was. The last thing he wanted now was a late night shouting match like the one he had encountered with Molly earlier.

* * *

_Molly stared at everything around her, dizziness still swirling in her head as she tried to stay upright and focus her gaze on something. But it was all too much. Wooden desks, black and white tiles, the chequered floor, the ancient telephones, the old posters... It looked to Molly like some sort of office, a bit like the one her Mum used to work in, only...older. More retro. She frowned, blinking until the blurry scene around her began to come into focus, the details becoming sharper, the colours brighter. And that's when she saw her._

_Over on the other side of the room, by a whiteboard and in front of two other people whose faces she couldn't see, was her Mum. Frowning, Molly looked at what she was wearing, confusion and dizziness not making for a good combination in her head. It was, it seemed to Molly, the sort of thing a hooker would wear. Tight red skirt, low-cut top, suspenders...and she had no idea what had happened to her hair. But still...it was her Mum, right? Molly tried to rush forwards, tried to call out to her, but she couldn't. She found herself frozen to the spot where she was standing, no sound coming out of her mouth as her Mum began to talk to the two people in front of her. It was like watching a movie from far away and wanting to shout out to the characters on the screen, but at the same time, knowing they couldn't hear you. _

_One of the people her Mum was talking to, Molly could tell, was female; she was wearing an outdated police uniform and her dark hair was cut short, so that it almost looked like the hair of the man sat next to her, who was slouched back and not really paying much attention, a cigarette held in his hand. Molly frowned again. Surely smoking inside, especially in a police station, was illegal? Whenever she had been in the CID office where her Mum worked, there had been 'No Smoking' signs everywhere. She looked around. There weren't any. _

"_Right, let's break it down," her Mum said, picking up a whiteboard marker with a serious, determined air about her. Molly wanted to scream and cry out, but no sound would come from her mouth. Couldn't her Mum see her, standing on the other side of the room? "Now, I was shot. The result of that act was my arrival in this...dystopia." She turned and scrawled the word on the whiteboard; Molly felt the hole in her chest rip open wider at the familiar sight of her Mum's handwriting. _

"_Dystopia – I had that once," said the man. "Couldn't eat solids for a week."_

"_Aw, baby," the woman next to him said, turning her head slightly to smile at the man, who Molly now guessed was her boyfriend. She frowned. Didn't they even know what a dystopia was? They were talking about diarrhoea. _

_But her Mum barely paid attention to them, and Molly sensed that she was doing this more to make sense of something for herself, rather than them. But make sense of what? She was dead. Molly frowned again, still feeling lightheaded, her chest aching and stomach churning. _

"_My mind creates a dark, twisted place for me to go." Her Mum turned her back to her again, raising the pen in her hand. "My brain is in severe trauma and will so not expend energy creating people I don't need. Therefore, _everything_ here is significant." She then wrote that on the board beneath the word 'dystopia' and once again, Molly felt a rush of longing surge through her. All she wanted to do was run forwards...but this was a dream, wasn't it? But then, everything looked so real, the sound of her Mum's voice sounded exactly as she remembered it, echoing in her head... Molly shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. Her Mum was dead. All of this was just a dream, built up from her memories. _

_Her Mum turned back round, and Molly recognised the serious, thoughtful expression on her face. "Now, I am an empirical person. I break everything down and I study it. That's how I solve problems." _

_The woman at the desk spoke again, leaning forwards slightly, the light Essex accent inquiring. "So your head has made up a puzzle for you to solve? Because that's the best way..."_

_Nodding, Alex pointed her pen at the young woman. "Because _that_ is the way that I will get strong. I must _constantly_ analyse." She turned and wrote that on the board too, whilst Molly stared in confusion. What did any of this mean? Of course, she knew what it meant, as in, what a dystopia was, and why analysing was important in psychology. She knew all of that, from reading her Mum's books and sneaking peeks at her case files when she wasn't looking. But why was she dreaming about this? Molly frowned again, her eyes watery as she looked up at her Mum._

_The man, who, in Molly's opinion, seemed a little bit dopey, suddenly sat up and started to pay attention a bit more. "Hang about. Hang about. Analyse what? Why you were shot?"_

_Despite his ignorance, Molly could see where the man was coming from, even if he was just a projection of her subconscious, created whilst asleep. Watching curiously as her Mum stopped and leant forward on the desk, looking both the unknown man and woman in the eye, Molly swallowed and tried her best not to cry. What did all of this mean? Her Mum was dead, and dreaming about her talking about dystopias and analysing wasn't going to change that. This. Was. Just. A. Dream. Though for some reason, Molly found herself desperately wishing it wasn't. But of course, that was impossible. Wasn't it? _

"_The moment it happened, I saw the bullet and I thought 'This is it, Alex. This is how it ends.'" A sharp tug pulled on Molly's stomach, and she felt the familiar sensation of brimming tears as she stared in horror at the haunted look in her Mum's eyes, heard her recall the moment her life ended._

_The woman said, sounding a little more enlightened, "Like this was your destiny?"_

"_Like Ben Kenobi in _Star Wars_," the man added, still not quite getting it. At this point, Molly did feel tears begin to roll down her cheeks, her Mum's voice echoing in her head. 'This is it, Alex. This is how it ends'... And suddenly a wave of reality came crashing down on her all over again, reminding her once and for all that her Mum was _dead_, and she wasn't coming back. _

_Meanwhile, her Mum nodded and turned to write the word 'destiny' beneath the other things she had scrawled on the board. "Now," she said, causing Molly to look up. Her Mum perched on the desk in front of the man and woman, blocking Molly's view of most of the writing on the board. "Where does that leave me?"_

_Molly gasped, her eyes widening as more tears ran down her cheeks, panic beginning to rise up inside her as she took in the four letters on the board, the word they spelled out screaming at her, reality crashing into her like a wave, over and over again as the scene around her started to blur again and the dizziness returned to her head. But all she could see was that word... _

_D_

_E_

_A_

_D_

_A loud, deafening gunshot sounded through the air, and everything went black. _

* * *

Judy lifted her head up from the pillow as Pete entered the room, undressed and pulled on some pyjama bottoms before getting in next to her. "How was she? Asleep?" Judy asked quietly, turning to face him.

Pete nodded. "Pretty sure she was, yeah. I didn't want to go in and risk waking her up anyway."

Smiling slightly, Judy nodded and looked away from his face, her fingers playing absentmindedly with the corner of the pillowcase. "What are we going to do with her, Pete? I mean...I want her here and all, and this is the best place for her, but what if she never gets over it? You know, Alex's death."

Pete looked thoughtful for a few moments before he let out a long sigh and reached out for her hand. "I don't know, Jude... But she will move on, everyone does manage it eventually... Alex lost her parents when she was about seven or eight years old, but she was pretty happy when I met her. Molly will be happy here eventually, just give her a few months to adjust."

Judy nodded and briefly pressed her lips to his hand where it was holding hers. "I know, you're right, of course she'll get over it eventually...It's only natural to be as upset as she is for a little while."

Nodding in agreement, Pete moved to settle himself more comfortably and closed his eyes. "It'll be fine, Judy," he told her quietly. "Goodnight."

"Night."

* * *

_For a few seconds, the darkness surrounded her, before one by one, the lights started to click back on and Molly found herself in the office again, standing close to where her Mum and the two other, presumably police officers, had been. The board still stood there, now wiped clean of her Mum's handwriting and the word that was still thrumming in the back of Molly's mind... Dead, dead, dead...her Mum was dead. The room was empty now, completely devoid of life, the desks emptier. Looking down, she was surprised to find she was dressed in the outfit she had bought for her birthday party – the dress she hadn't ever got the chance to wear in the end. Molly frowned and started to walk forwards towards the doors, looking for her Mum. "Hello? Hello?"_

_At the sound of her voice, a figure popped up from behind one of the desks – she vaguely recognized him as a character called Zippy...but he had been around when her Mum was little, hadn't he? Zippy laughed his signature laugh, the police hat bobbing up and down on his head as Molly made her way over to him. "You're under arrest!" he exclaimed, pointing a police truncheon at her before asking, "Who are you, then?"_

_Beside him, a pink figure with blue eyes appeared. Molly didn't really recognise him, but he looked a little like a character from '_The Story Makers'_, but not quite. "It's alright, Zippy," he said, looking at Molly with unseeing eyes. "Molly's my new friend."_

_Laughing again, Zippy waved his truncheon up and down. "Poor old Molly! She must be very hard-up for friends."_

_Molly glanced towards the whiteboard again, remembering her Mum and the other two people who had been stood there before. She looked back at Zippy and his pink friend. "I'm looking for my Mum," she said, whilst at the same time wondering why she was asking them. They were children's TV characters, and not even on the TV anymore... Why were they in her dream? _

"_Well I haven't seen her!" Zippy exclaimed. _

_Molly frowned, feeling tears building up behind her eyes again as her fingers touched the skirt of her dress. "But it's my birthday. We have a cake and presents, and I'm waiting for her to come."_

_Looking almost thoughtfully at her, the pink character said, sounding slightly mysterious, "She must be so far away, Molly. So far that you couldn't even see her through the biggest, giantest telescope in the whole world..."_

_Zippy's voice and laugh took on an almost cruel, nasal quality at that point as he added, "Yes, yes, that's right, George," naming his pink companion. Zippy looked directly at her, and Molly felt like he was seeing right through her, eyes boring into her soul. "Forget your Mum, Molly. She's _never_ coming back_."

_Both Zippy and George shook their heads gravely at her as the words rang in Molly's ears, bringing tears to her eyes again. 'She's _never_ coming back'... At that, Molly started to run, tears streaming from her eyes and heart racing. She wanted to wake up. Didn't want to see anymore of this, didn't want to be here anymore... She wanted her Mum. And as she ran, Molly found herself enveloped in darkness again, the sound of Zippy's laughter echoing all around her. _

* * *

The sound of quiet breathing filled the bedroom as Judy lay there awake, staring up at the darkened ceiling, thoughts running through her head. A question was burning on the tip of her tongue, and she knew Pete was laid there, probably asleep, but she had to know. Eventually, she broke the silence. "Do you feel bad about it?"

Sleepily opening his eyes, Pete slowly turned to look at Judy. "Feel bad about what?" he mumbled, eyes fluttering almost to a close again.

Judy bit her lip. "That Alex is dead."

Pete frowned, groggily opening his eyes again. "Well, I'm not glad she's dead, Judy, if that's what you mean," he said, his voice still tired and sleepy.

"No, no," Judy told him hurriedly, turning to face him as well. "I mean...do you feel bad that you left her, and now she's dead? Because I just thought that maybe you regretted..."

"Jude," Pete sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. "I wasn't the best of husbands to Alex, okay? But when I left, it was just something I had to do. I couldn't stay; it was too much to cope with. I was too young, too immature, I just couldn't do it. And yes, I feel bad about abandoning her the way I did back then...but..." He frowned. "Not any more so because she's dead." His frown deepened. "Why do you ask?"

Shaking her head, Judy shrugged and turned to lie on her back again. "Nothing, it doesn't matter... You'll say I'm being silly."

"No, what is it?"

She sighed, biting her lip again as she turned her head to look at him. "I just thought that maybe you...well..."

"Still loved her?" Pete asked, surprised. "God, no. I cared about what happened to her, of course I did, and would never have wanted her dead, and it's horrible that she is, but... No, I didn't still love her. Not sure if I ever loved her properly in the first place."

"Why did you marry her then?" Judy asked with surprise, frowning into the darkness.

This time, it was Pete's turn to shrug and bite his lip. "Dunno, just...seemed like the right thing to do, really. And she was gorgeous; I'm not going to deny it..." He shrugged again. "She was pregnant, we were young, seemed like the right thing to do next was get married."

Judy nodded to herself silently and pulled the duvet up a bit more. "Sorry if I woke you up," she said gently, closing her eyes.

Pete smiled slightly, his mind preoccupied with thought. "That's okay," he said absentmindedly, before turning over again, thinking about his replies to Judy's questions about his ex-wife. He didn't get back to sleep again that night.

* * *

_Still in the darkness, Molly wandered around, desperately straining her eyes for any sign of her Mum. For even the tiniest flash of the red skirt she had been wearing, or the black blazer. "Mummy?" She bit down on her lip. "You're going to miss my birthday..." Grief hit her again, tearing at the burning hole in her chest as she sobbed, "All my birthdays." _

_Just then, the darkness started to seep away, a mirage of red and brown tones slowly replacing it until Molly found herself in what appeared to be some sort of restaurant, though everything was blurry again and she found it hard to focus properly. Blinking as she had done back in the CID office, Molly swallowed and tried to look around again, finding everything a little clearer. The woman and her boyfriend from before were sat at table with a man Molly didn't recognise; she could see now that the woman was maybe better described as a girl – she only just looked in her twenties, and the other man she hadn't seen before seemed nearly middle aged, with a dark perm and a moustache. He was cracking some joke about women that Molly didn't quite get, but she was sure it was supposed to be offensive. _

_Feeling slightly dizzy, Molly turned, eyes searching the restaurant for her Mum. And there she was. Walking with an air of confidence and sensuality that Molly had never seen in her before, her Mum was dressed now in tight blue jeans, a loose top and a white leather jacket. Blue eye-shadow was dusted over her eyelids and Molly frowned, watching as her Mum approached a table where another man was sat – another man she didn't recognise. _

_The man looked up appreciatively at her Mum and almost smiled, filling a glass of wine before handing it to her. To Molly's surprise, her Mum took it. The man was, Molly supposed, quite handsome in an older, more rugged way. He was dressed in a dark suit with a silver tie, and there was something in his eyes as he looked at her Mum that made Molly pay close attention. "On the house," he said. _

_Her Mum smiled at him and said, "Cheers," before she downed the wine in one. Molly frowned again; why was she dreaming about her Mum drinking? Her Mum barely ever drank alcohol, not even when she went out. _

"_Luigi," the man called out, signalling over to a bald man stood by the bar. "Another bottle of your house rubbish." _

_And with that, he sat back down next to her Mum as Molly watched on in confusion as they talked, drinking steadily. Eventually, just like before with CID, the restaurant began to disappear and Molly found herself in darkness again, the low sound of the man's voice drifting away. _

* * *

"Pete?" Judy murmured, shifting closer to his back as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, but..." She sighed, shaking her head. "Leave it, it doesn't matter."

"No," Pete sighed, not bothering to roll over to face her. "What is it, Jude?"

"It's just..." Judy wet her lips, her hands wringing together as she stared into the darkness of the bedroom. "You know how you said you weren't sure you loved Alex properly, but you married her?"

"Mm," Pete mumbled, nodding his head briefly.

"Well...Is it like that with me?"

"No, God!" he suddenly exclaimed, quickly rolling over. "Of course it's not, Judy. I know where I am now; I know what I want, and what I'm doing." He leant over and pressed a kiss to her lips. "I love you, Judy. Me and Alex were just young, that's all. Too young to really understand it all."

Judy smiled. "I know, I'm sorry. I'm just being ridiculous. I'll go to sleep now."

Pete chuckled lightly and squeezed her hand before settling back down again. "That's a good idea. Goodnight."

Smiling, Judy murmured, "Night," and finally fell asleep, happy in the knowledge that he loved her, and not Alex.

* * *

_The darkness didn't linger for long this time as Molly found herself stood in the living area of a small flat, out of sight near a corner. Just as with the CID office, Molly found herself thinking that the flat was incredibly outdated. The TV, for one thing, looked absolutely ancient, and where was the iPod docking station, the mobile phones, the internet modem? But before Molly could move forwards to explore any more, she was taken aback as her Mum stumbled in and collapsed on the sofa, mumbling incoherently to herself and groaning slightly. She was even more surprised when the man from before followed her in and sat back against the sofa, his tie looser around his neck now, hair a little more dishevelled. Frowning at the scene before her, Molly watched as her Mum groaned again and shifted on the sofa where she was sprawled; if she didn't know any better, she'd have said her Mum was drunk. But...her Mum hardly ever drank alcohol, not even a glass of wine with meals, usually. Her gaze strayed to the mysterious man again. Who was he? _

"_Let me do this on my own," her Mum moaned, seemingly talking to the man as she shifted uncomfortably again on the sofa. _

_The man turned his head slightly to look at her before saying, "It's always more fun with two." What was he talking about? Molly frowned again, getting more and more confused as she tried to work out who he was, and why her Mum trusted him enough to get drunk with him. But...this was just a dream; why was she bothered at all? It was just a dream. None of it mattered; it wasn't important. _

_The young woman and her boyfriend from before didn't exist; the man with the moustache didn't exist; the mysterious, impressive looking man sat leant against her Mum now didn't exist. Her frown deepened. So why had she made them up? Why had her mind decided to create these people to surround her Mum with, and why had she made her Mum so... Molly sighed slightly. She couldn't think of a word to describe it, but she had no idea why she was dreaming like this. Her Mum was dead, and no amount of changing her or surrounding her with made up people was going to change that. She just wanted to wake up. _

_Her Mum moved on the sofa again, this time to place a limp hand on the man's shoulder. "I don't need your help," she murmured, head collapsing back down onto the armrest. _

"_Everyone does," said the man, shifting slightly as her Mum rolled towards him more; Molly didn't like where this was going. "You know, they're sharpening the axe for coppers like me. But I'll tell you this much, Bols; up until the last second, I will be out there making a difference."_

_He sounded confident, self-assured, almost vicious as he said those words, and Molly knew he was a man to be reckoned with. But why was he calling her Mum 'Bols'? What did that mean? However, her Mum barely seemed to hear him and mumbled drunkenly, more to herself than anyone else, "I really am gonna be sick...I'm gonna be sick..." _

_The man ignored her, seeing she was pretty much out of it as he turned round to look properly at her. Watching as he took something from her Mum's back pocket, Molly didn't miss the way his fingers subtly brushed her backside before he looked to the little book in his hands. She frowned again, confusion mixing with hurt. She desperately wanted to wake up now; this wasn't exactly what she called a nightmare – no dream where her Mum was still alive could be a nightmare, but it wasn't a particularly nice dream either. She didn't want to see her Mum being touched by this man she had never seen before, but who obviously fancied her. It made her feel a little bit sick. _

"_What's this?" the man asked. _

_It took a little while for her Mum to reply as she struggled to keep her eyes open and told him, words slurring ever so slightly, "It's Layton's. From the junk yard..."_

_Layton? Molly's eyes flew wide open as she stared at the little book in the man's hands. What did Layton have to do with any of this? He had killed her Mum, had captured her and shot her. He was responsible for _all_ of this. However, neither her Mum nor the man said anything more. He got up and came back with a blanket, covering her Mum with it as she finally fell asleep. _

_Molly waited, impatient, confused and upset until she was sure the man had left, before she crept out from her hiding place and silently tiptoed over to where her Mum was sprawled uncomfortably on the black and white sofa. Wordlessly, Molly managed to slip under the blanket with her, there just being room enough for her to snuggle into her Mum's side. It was weird, almost real... She could feel her body heat, feel the beat of her heart against the side of her chest, feel her Mum's breath across her forehead... A mix of feelings rose up in Molly's chest: grief, love, fear, comfort, devastation, loss, warmth, longing... All she wanted was for this to be real; for her to wake up and be six years old again, climbing up into her Mum's bed in the middle of the night after a bad dream. But then, that was all this was, wasn't it? A bad dream. Nothing more. Her Mum was dead; and she would never actually hug her like this, or at all, ever again. _

"_Molly," her Mum mumbled, and Molly tried to move closer, heart beating in her chest as for one crazy second, she thought it might be real. Her Mum was talking to her. But her Mum was shifting against her, trying to push her out. "Molly. Go and get back in your own bed," she told her gently, still half-asleep. "Go on, sweetheart. Molls..." _

_Unable to stay on the little space left on the sofa, Molly reluctantly slipped out from under the blanket as she felt a cold creep over her whole body, darkness descending once again as everything blurred before her eyes, dizziness overtaking the mix of emotions in her head as she closed her eyes... And as the darkness consumed her completely, she heard her Mum cry out. _

"_Molly!" _

* * *

Molly's eyes flew open and she gasped, quickly sitting bolt upright in her bed. She looked around, heart hammering in her chest as she took short, rasping breaths. There was no-one there. Just a darkened, still unfamiliar bedroom. Moonlight shone through the window where the curtains hadn't been drawn and reflected off the screen of her new computer, shone on the spines of the books on the bookcase. Letting out an aggravated moan, Molly lay back down again and buried her face in the pillow, trying to stop the sobs from wracking her body. She had been there. She had been there next to her, holding her close...She had been able to feel her Mum's warm breath across her forehead, hear her voice in her ear... It had felt so _real_. But it wasn't, Molly knew that.

All she had now was her Dad, Judy, and a brand new bedroom she didn't even want. She just wanted to be left alone. Memories of the dream she had just had swirled in her head, words repeating themselves over and over in her mind until Molly could barely think about anything else except for what her Mum had said, what the others around her had said – imaginary constructs from her own subconscious. It had just been a dream, nothing but a stupid dream that didn't even make sense. Her Mum was dead, and those people didn't exist. And that was all there was to it.

Molly didn't get back to sleep again that night and after she had cried herself out again she just lay there, staring absentmindedly out of the window, her thoughts consumed by the imaginary world her mind had created, and the people that populated it. Mainly, it was Zippy's voice she heard over and over again in her head, that mirthless laugh haunting her...

'_Forget your Mum, Molly. She's _never_ coming back.' _

* * *

_**Yes, I know, sorry, more angst! I did warn you. :P The events of this dream were based on what happened in the show, but some of her dreams won't be as all this is AU, obviously. Thank you, as always for reading, and please do review – your thoughts mean the world to me!**_

_**X =D**_


	5. Promises

_**Thank you, as always, for the lovely reviews; I really appreciate it! Anyway, I won't bore you with a massive author's note this time. :P On with the show...**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes. :D**_

_**Chapter 5 – Promises**_

* * *

_Saturday, 9__th__ August, 2008_

"What do you want for breakfast, Molly?" Judy asked, looking up as Molly walked slowly into the kitchen, fully dressed in jeans and a navy hoodie, her hands in her pockets and hair pulled back into a loose, low ponytail.

"Don't mind," she mumbled, dropping awkwardly down into a chair and looking nervously around the unfamiliar kitchen. The gleaming granite worktops, white cupboards and modern appliances were all foreign to her, all screaming at her, an all too prominent reminder of just how much her life had changed. She didn't want shining worktops, bright nickel appliances and an ultra-modern, built in dishwasher. Molly wanted slightly chipped wooden worktops, a temperamental stove and a kitchen sink with drainer. She wanted to stand side by side with her Mum, arguing about who should wash, and who should dry; she wanted to blow the bubbles into her Mum's hair and flick her with the dish towel when she threatened to make her wash _and_ dry.

Getting up, Judy busied herself around the kitchen, trying to fill the screaming silence that lingered awkwardly in the kitchen as she waited for Pete to come down. "Toast?" she offered, glancing back at Molly. "Cereal? Pancakes? Yoghurt? Bacon sandwich? Beans on toast? Waffles?"

Before she could remember her manners, Molly looked up and scowled at Judy, instantly silencing her. "Toast is fine," she said dully, eyes flickering to the toaster as she shifted in her chair, unsure whether or not to get up and do it herself like she would usually.

"Toast it is then," Judy agreed, switching the silver toaster on at the plug and trying to inject a bright, cheery note into her voice. "What do you want on it?"

Making sure she replied before Judy could start offering her every condiment under the sun in an attempt to make friends, Molly said, "Just butter's fine."

Judy caught the almost impatient, clipped tone in her voice and nodded, awkwardly putting some bread into the toaster. "Butter, right..."

Silence invaded the kitchen again, shrouding the room as Molly sat awkwardly at the kitchen table and Judy stood, waiting. For what, she wasn't entirely sure – for the toast to pop, for Pete to come in, for Molly to say something... Anything that would break the silence.

Molly, meanwhile, could think of nothing but the dream she'd had the previous night. Zippy's words and mirthless laugh were still haunting her, echoing in her mind as images flashed in front of her eyes; her Mum in a short, low-cut red dress and black blazer, the word 'DEAD' on a whiteboard, George's unseeing eyes staring right through her soul, her Mum drinking wine with a tall, mysterious man, slipping under a blue blanket to hug her... The feel of her Mum's breath across her forehead, the warmth of her body, the beat of her heart. It had all felt so _real_.

"Here you go." Judy's voice broke Molly from her thoughts as she set down a plate of buttered toast in front of her, standing awkwardly for a moment before Molly's muttered 'thanks' and then, at long last, Pete came into the kitchen.

Smiling, he crossed over to Judy and kissed her cheek, flicking the kettle on as he made his way over. He sat down at the table across from Molly, who glanced up at him briefly, and then returned to her toast. Taking that as a sign that his daughter had calmed down a little after a good night's sleep and didn't want to resume their argument, Pete smiled slightly. "Morning, Molls."

Molly, who was just about to take a bite of toast, froze. Her hand stilled, her whole body tensing as slowly, she looked up to glare at her Dad. There was moment of ice cold silence as Pete took in the near on murderous look in his daughter's eyes, the small smile quickly slipping from his face. And then, Molly slowly ground out through gritted teeth, "_Don't_ call me Molls."

Pete swallowed and glanced up at Judy, his expression slightly confused. However, she just shrugged, and the atmosphere was suddenly impossibly thick. Looking back at Molly, Pete swallowed again and slid a hand across the table towards her, before thinking better of it and moving it back. "I'm sorry, Molly, I thought..."

Her glare silenced him, the thin line of her lips telling him that any attempts to apologise for something he didn't even know was an offence were futile.

There was silence for a few more moments, before Molly pointedly put down her half-eaten slice of toast and pushed her chair back. "I'm full," she told them both bluntly before quickly leaving the room and all but running back upstairs without another word.

Once she was gone, Pete let out a long breath he hadn't even known he was holding and looked up at Judy. The kettle had finished boiling, but they both ignored it. "What was all that about?" he asked, slightly incredulous. "I used to call her Molls before... Her Mum called her Molls all the time..." he trailed off, realisation dawning on his face. He paused, then looked up at her again. "Is that seriously it? She doesn't want me to call her Molls anymore because her Mum used to say that?"

Judy shrugged. "She's twelve, Pete, and she's just lost her mother. I think there's probably going to be all sorts of things that hit the wrong nerve for a while, maybe we just need to tread carefully for a bit."

"Hm," Pete murmured in reply, running a hand through his newly combed hair, messing it up. "Well, she can forget about staying in her room all day. We're supposed to be getting her fitted up for her school uniform at eleven."

* * *

Several hours later and Molly let out an angry huff of breath, her fists curled up into balls as she dropped down to sit on her bed, staring at the uniform now hanging from the wardrobe doors. St. Dominic's Catholic School for Girls was posh; her Dad had pointed it out when they drove past on the way to the uniform shop, and by posh, Molly meant _really_ posh. A big, grand old building with extensive grounds and playing fields, St. Dominic's reminded her of the sort of typical high schools she had seen in old English movies. And looking at the uniform, Molly found herself sarcastically wondering why she hadn't had to buy a lacrosse stick and straw hat, too.

Molly scowled at the uniform: a black skirt, white shirt and purple tie with thin, green stripes. And the blazer was even worse. It was the same deep purple shade as the tie, with dark green lining and edging along the bottom and sleeve ends. She had attended a Catholic school in London and had had to wear a blazer, but the uniform there had been considerably less obtrusive than this one. Staring at the uniform, Molly decided that despite purple being her favourite colour, she hated it, and she was going to hate her new school even more. Her Dad and Judy had promised her she would love it, but Molly knew she wouldn't. She was going to hate it, just like she hated Cheshire.

* * *

_Her Mum and the tall, mysterious man from before with a moody pout were stood in front of what looked, to all intents and purposes, like a police station, but Molly couldn't be sure. From where she was stood, the whole scene was hazy – their features and bodies blurred. They were arguing about something or other, and it was only when she drew closer that she could hear the words they were saying. Again, she seemed to be invisible – people on the pavement were passing by, looking through her, or not seeing her at all. No-one acknowledged her presence. As she blinked rapidly, the fogginess seeped away from her surroundings, and suddenly everything looked as clear as day. _

_The man was looking at her Mum with a suggestive glint in his eye. "Personally, I have no desire whatsoever to see your bony, over educated buttocks, but it's good for morale."_

"_I bet you don't," Molly muttered to herself, scepticism clear in her tone as she scowled and stepped closer to her Mum and the man she wasn't exactly warming to. _

_Her Mum didn't even see her, let alone hear her. Instead, she just arched an eyebrow at the man and shot back, "Well it's not going to happen."_

_What? What wasn't going to happen? Molly frowned, trying to work out what they were talking about. Why was he talking about her Mum's 'buttocks'? She shook her head, as though it would cause the image in front of her to disappear. It didn't. Nothing made sense. Why was she dreaming about this again? Molly didn't _want_ to be dreaming about this again – about her Mum wearing skimpy clothes in a place where everything looked old, and where there was some older man with no manners who clearly fancied her. She didn't like it one bit. Her Mum was dead – her Mum, who had worn trouser suits and loose jeans on the weekends. Her Mum, who belonged in 2008, with her. Her Mum, who never flirted with anyone, and only went out with someone if it was okay with her, only if she liked whoever he was. Molly remembered the doctor her Mum had once been seeing, she remembered how he had always taken her coat, opened the door for her, politely kissed her hand or cheek. _

_He had never looked at her Mum the way this man was doing now. _

* * *

Downstairs in the kitchen, Pete slumped over the table and gave a long sigh, wearily rubbing his eyes. "Did you see her face when we were getting the uniform, Jude?" he sighed, looking up at Judy.

She smiled sympathetically and nodded, quietly dropping down into the chair next to him. "I know... I'm worried, Pete, about what's going to happen when she starts school in September..."

Looking up at her with dread in his eyes, Pete swallowed, slightly panicked for a few moments. "But...she'll have calmed down a bit more by then, surely? That's more than three weeks away, she'll have had time to get used to it here, settle in a bit more... She'll be happy here, eventually."

"You're right," Judy conceded, nodding slightly and letting out a long sigh herself. "Besides, at school she'll have the chance to make friends – they'll make her feel more welcome, give her a reason to actually want to be here."

* * *

_Everything was blurred again, shifting in and out of clarity, but Molly recognised the deep red and brown tones of the restaurant from her dream the night before. As soon as she realised where she was, her vision cleared and again, everything was cast into sharp relief. It was so _realistic_, as though she was looking at any old restaurant in the real world...But of course, there was one thing about this restaurant that told Molly it couldn't be real, that it had to be a dream. Her Mum was in it. _

_She was sat with the same man again, who Molly liked less and less, and they each had a plate of pasta in front of them. The rest of the restaurant was empty, apart from the short, balding Italian man who stood at the bar, eyeing her Mum and the mysterious man with interest. _

_Everything was silent, a strange buzzing ringing in Molly's ears until she stepped closer, and her Mum spoke. "I wonder if these calories count," she mused, looking to the man sat beside her. _

_He glanced at her. "What?" _

_Her Mum started pushing the pasta around her plate, looking down at it thoughtfully. "A moment on the lips, an afterlife on the hips... That would be just my luck."_

_Molly smiled slightly, tears filling her eyes again as she remembered her Mum muttering something similar to that every time she ate chocolate. The man, however, seemed to ignore her. _

"_He's a bloody fool. Still, suppose 'e can't come crying to me when he gets blown t' bits." Molly frowned, but before she could get what he was talking about, presumably a case, the man looked up at the bar towards the little Italian man. "Oi, Luigi! I 'ope you gave this horse a decent funeral." _

"_Very funny, Mr Hunt," Luigi said in a heavy Italian accent, though he didn't look like he meant it. But Molly didn't care. He had called the man who fancied her Mum Mr Hunt. Hunt. She had a name. It swirled around in Molly's head. Hunt, Hunt, Hunt... She looked at him again. Well, she supposed, it did rhyme with something... "Good one," Luigi added, clicking his tongue twice and mimicking a wink. _

_Next thing Molly knew, and the man, Hunt, had shifted to his left, nestling closer to her Mum. "I am going t' stamp your arse, yer do know that," he murmured, and Molly could see the suggestive glint in his eyes again. What was he talking about, stamping his Mum's arse? Molly had no idea what that meant, but she was pretty sure she didn't like the sound of it. _

_Lifting her gaze to meet his, her Mum looked at him stubbornly and said, "You most certainly are not." _

_As soon as she said it, a moody pout appeared on Hunt's face and before Molly could even try to run forwards or call out to her Mum, she found herself engulfed in a thick smoke, grey blurring her vision and filtering out sound. _

* * *

Pete and Judy were sat together on the couch, quietly watching some TV and enjoying a glass of wine each when the phone rang.

Sighing, Pete leant forward to put his drink down. "I'll get it." Wondering who would be calling in the late evening, Pete crossed over to the phone handset in the lounge and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hi, Peter, it's Evan."

Pete paused, caught off guard for a second before standing up a little straighter and moving back over to perch on the armrest of the sofa. "Oh, hi, Evan... Is everything okay?"

"Yes, yes, fine... I just wondered how Molly is. I tried ringing her on her BlackBerry earlier, but it went to answer machine. I presume she's left it off."

Nodding, although he knew Evan couldn't see him, Pete mouthed Evan's name to Judy before replying, "Yes, probably. I think, well, I'm pretty sure she's asleep right now..." His voice was stiff and awkward, "Um...do you want me to give her a message, or..."

There was a long silence at the end of the phone, tensions in the room suddenly high as Pete waited for his reply. "Um, no," he said, and he sounded angry for some reason that Pete couldn't fathom, "I'll ring her tomorrow, see if she picks up then. Goodbye."

"Um, yeah...Bye," Pete said, frowning as Evan quickly hung up the phone.

"What was all that about?" Judy asked as Pete sat back down and took a large gulp of wine.

He glanced at her. "I have no idea. Just Evan. He asked how Molly was, said he'd rung her BlackBerry but she hadn't picked up, and that he'd ring her tomorrow."

Looking thoughtful for a moment, Judy nodded and sipped her wine slowly. "He never liked you, did he?" she asked, looking over at Pete. "Evan, I mean. Never liked you."

"No, he didn't..." Pete sighed. "Always seemed to think I wasn't good enough for Alex, or that I was going to drag her off the rails again."

"Again?"

"Yeah." Pete looked at Judy, a wry smile on his face as he picked his wine glass back up. "When she was about fifteen or sixteen she went off the rails a bit, apparently, before I met her. Drank too much, slept with the wrong people... Drugs were mentioned somewhere too, I think. I always got the impression that it was because of her Mum and Dad, because they died when she was little and I think she ended up resenting Evan by that age... She grew out of it. Well, obviously, because she wasn't like that when I met her."

"Oh God," Judy said softly, sounding alarmed, her eyes wide as she looked at Pete. "You don't think Molly's going to do that, do you?" she asked, watching as horror slowly seeped into Pete's expression. "I mean, she resents us, and this whole thing, already, so... How long is it before she thinks the only way to get along is to rebel?"

* * *

_The smoke was everywhere. In her eyes, up her nose, in her mouth. She could taste it, ash hot on her tongue, the strong smell of burning invading her sinuses and pushing up her nose. It made her eyes water as she ran, trying to run out of it, desperately hoping it would clear. _

_Eventually, the smoke began to thin, but not by much. Just enough that Molly could see a few feet ahead of her, could see the crackling flames in what looked like a blown-apart doorway. But more importantly, she could see her Mum. She was on the floor, thrown backwards, sprawled on the concrete until, out of nowhere, the man – Hunt, arrived. The scene happened too quickly for Molly to catch any details. _

_One minute, he was pulling her Mum up from the floor, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he dragged her away from the flames and out of the smoke, his burning, concerned gaze flickering down to her shocked face every few seconds. And then, just like that, the scene was gone, and suddenly the flames were in front of her. Flickering on a birthday cake, huge, looming candles, coming closer towards her, obscuring the view of her Mum and the man... Closing her eyes against the impending blackness, Molly blew them out, hoping that when she opened them again, she would see her Mum. _

* * *

"I don't think-"

"You said it yourself, Pete," Judy cut him off, worry written all over her face as she glanced up at the ceiling, almost as though she expected some sort of rebel-Molly to burst through onto the floor at any moment and announce that she was running away. "She's just like her mother – stubborn, and hard work sometimes. What if she does channel all that anger about her Mum dying, into other things? She's only twelve, for God's sakes..."

Pete thought for a long while, letting out a sigh as she passed a weary hand across his face. "I don't know, Judy, I don't know... The only thing we can do for the moment is keep a close eye on her, and be careful. Besides, I don't really think there's much opportunity for drink, drugs and sleeping around at a private girls' Catholic school."

Judy still wasn't reassured. "Didn't Alex go to a private girls' Catholic school?"

He sighed, not quite knowing what to say to that. "That was different. It was in London, not Cheshire."

* * *

_As the smoke and blackness cleared, Molly found herself in what was, it seemed, her Mum's flat again. Though thankfully, there was no sign of Hunt. Her Mum was staring right at her, an old fashioned tape recorder held in her hand, a determined look on her face. Molly edged nearer, tears filling her eyes as her Mum began to speak. _

"_Everything is significant, Molly. I just don't know why yet. But the more I experience, the more clues I'll get, and the sooner I'll be back home to you..."_

_Molly knew she was only talking to the tape recorder, but if she closed her eyes, she could imagine her Mum was talking directly to her still. But when she opened her eyes again, there was only darkness. No light, no nothing. Her Mum had gone. Yet her soft voice still carried through the blackness as a tear dropped and rolled down Molly's cheek. _

"_I won't leave you on your own, Molly. I promise." _

_A series of loud bangs went off behind her, sounding vaguely like fireworks, and Molly's eyes flew open. _

* * *

_**Yes, I've been geeking out on the first series again! :P Thank you very much for reading, and please let me know what you think!**_

_**X =D**_


	6. Psychologist

_**Hi, sorry this has taken a while getting to you. As you most of you probably know or have guessed – it's exam time at the moment, so I'm a bit bogged down with revision and such, but I managed to get this written and posted! Thanks to those of you who reviewed, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter! :D**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes...just a shit load of revision notes!**_

_**Chapter Six - Psychologist**_

* * *

_Sunday, 10__th__ August, 2008_

"But you did, you did! You left me here with _him_. You didn't come back; you just went to sleep and never _woke up_!"

Molly was thrashing under the covers, her legs kicking out, arms flailing as she tossed and turned in bed, her eyes tightly shut again. "You broke your promise, you didn't come back!" She was screaming, sobbing desperately in her sleep as the covers wound tightly around her legs and she kept thrashing, her movements jerky and violent. "You just left and never came back to blow out the candles with me!"

* * *

"Pete?" Judy shifted towards him, pulling the duvet off slightly. "Pete? I think Molly's..." She trailed off and glanced towards the door as the sound of muffled, hysteric cries carried through once more. "Pete," she said again, louder this time. "Wake up."

He stirred slightly. "Mhm?"

"Pete," Judy said, shaking him slightly. "Molly's shouting, I think... Screaming."

"Wh-what?" Pete sat up in the bed now, rubbing his eyes blearily and running a hand through his hair. Then Molly's voice rang out again, louder and more panicked this time. With a sigh, Pete wearily pushed back the duvet and got out of bed.

* * *

"Molly? Molly?" Pete peered hesitantly around the door before stepping fully into the room, a little apprehensive. His eyes were fixed on his daughter as she thrashed in the bed, covers and hair in disarray, one pillow thrown to the floor.

"You left me!" Molly cried, her eyes still closed in fitful sleep as she sobbed and continued to toss and turn, unable to shake whatever demons were still in her mind, interrupting her sleep. "You left me with Dad. You hate Dad, and you let them send me to him! You didn't _come back_!"

Pete watched, his face shocked and eyes wide in alarm as Molly screamed herself hoarse. He had no idea how she could still be asleep; how could she not hear her own hellish wailing, her own loud, distraught voice? Her screams were ear-splitting, wracked with grief and anger and they shook him to the core.

"Molly, wake up. It's just a dream, Molls-Molly, sorry..." He crossed over to her bedside, then recoiled slightly when she kicked a leg out in his direction. "Molly... Molly!" Taking a deep, frustrated breath, Pete lunged forwards and grabbed her flailing arms, managing somehow to still her. "Molly, wake up!"

Her eyes flew open once more and she gasped, her gaze darting about the room as though looking for an invisible threat. "Mum," she breathed, her forehead coated in cold sweat. Her hair was a tangled mess about her face as she inhaled and exhaled heavily, hot, sticky tears still streaming down her face.

"Mum's gone, Molly, she's gone," Pete said softly, tentatively releasing his grip on her arms. He moved back to just sit on the edge of the bed, but kept a loose, uncertain grip on her hand. "It was just a dream, Molly. Whatever it was, it was just a dream."

For a few moments, there was nothing but the panic and alarm that still lingered behind the look of concern in Pete's eyes, and the sound of Molly's heavy breathing as she steadily woke up and slipped back into the land of the living.

"B-but...It _feels_ real, like she's there, like I'm there... Like _he's_ there." She took deep gulps of oxygen and stared up at her Dad with a mixed look of shock, desperation and sadness in her eyes. "It's like she's still alive," she told him, her voice almost disturbingly quiet and gentle all of a sudden. Gone was the anger and frustration from her face, vanished were the devastated cries, the streaming tears and hysteric sobs. Molly's face was suddenly very calm and collected, her expression almost reverent as she said, her quiet voice full of wonder, "It's like this whole world where Mum's still alive, and it feels so _real_, when I'm there... Even when _he's_ there..."

Pete didn't know what to say at first. He just sat there, staring at his daughter and trying not to let the alarm show on his face. Her voice sounded faraway, wondrous and contemplative, almost like she was someone who had seen the light for the first time, or finally experienced true love. And it worried him. It worried him because it sounded like she _believed _in this 'world', where her Mum was still alive. He heard a movement behind him and turned his head to see Judy in the doorway, one hand holding the door as if wondering whether or not to come in. Her expression seemed to mirror his, and Pete watched as her concerned gaze moved from his face, to Molly, and back to him again.

"Molly," Judy said gently, slowly making her way into the room and across to Molly's bedside. "What do you mean?"

Molly either ignored, or didn't hear her. She was looking down now, avoiding their worried gazes, her expression one of deep thought.

"Molly," Pete reached out for her hand again, holding it loosely. "Molly, your Mum's dead, you know that."

Without looking up, Molly yanked her hand away from his in one vicious movement, a low hiss escaping her lips. "I _know_." She lifted her eyes very briefly to glare at her Dad. "But _there_, it's like she's not."

"Like she's not dead?" Judy asked cautiously.

Molly gave a small nod. "Like she's alive again... She's different, not how I remember... But she's alive there."

Pete looked up, and he and Judy exchanged worried glances before both turning their attention back to Molly.

Pete spoke softly, almost as though he was afraid of being too loud, of disturbing his daughter's fragile mood, of breaking the tense atmosphere that had suddenly descended on the three of them. "Molly," he said, though she still refused to look up at him, "How about you go back to sleep now, it's one o'clock in the morning. And we'll talk about this tomorrow, okay?"

* * *

_Thursday, 14__th__ August, 2008_

The walls were all plain. The only decorative thing Molly could see in the waiting room was a fake pot plant, stood miserably in one corner, the light reflecting off the waxy surface of its plastic leaves. Since Sunday, Molly had experienced more dreams about her Mum, and the weird, retro world she had constructed around her. Images flashed before her eyes now, as she sat back on a leather couch, ignoring her Dad and Judy, both tense beside her.

Her Mum, in a black corset, 'sexy' dancing with the moustached man who had made the sexist jokes before. Her Mum talking to a young, scared-looking black girl, concern in her eyes and on her face. Her Mum arguing with the man – Hunt, something about an entire rugby team... And then there was her Mum's face again, wide-eyes full of promise as she swore to come back, as she promised that she'd come home. Her words still rung in Molly's ears as she held them tight, wishing to every God and deity that they could be true, that her Mum could still come back to her. Even though, deep down, she knew her Mum was never coming back, just as Zippy had said.

A polite voice broke through her thoughts.

"Dr Tyler is ready to see you now."

Molly was still in a haze, her mind still preoccupied as she, her Dad and Judy were led down a small, carpeted corridor to a room, with another couch and sad looking pot plant outside the door. They stopped there, and Molly looked up at her Dad, her eyes hard.

Giving her a small, hopefully reassuring smile, Pete nodded towards the door. "You go in there, Molly, it won't be for long, and me and Judy will wait out here."

Scowling at him, Molly turned to walk through the door the receptionist had opened for her. The young, smart looking woman gave her a smile, and Molly glared at her in return. Did they all think she was stupid? Did they think she didn't know where she was, where they had brought her? This was where people took the mental kids, the messed up ones who didn't have any control over what they were saying or doing. The ones who were wrong in the head, who had a screw loose, who were a few flakes short of a snowball, as her Mum used to say. Molly could feel the anger rising up inside her as she walked into the counselling room, her fists clenching by her sides. She wasn't _insane_, or 'distracted by grief' either, like she had heard Judy say a few nights before. The dreams were _real_, or at least, they felt that way.

Dr Tyler was a woman in her early sixties, with curly, greying hair that had once been a glossy mahogany colour and a friendly smile on her face. She stepped forward towards Molly with her hand outstretched. "Hi, Molly," she said, smiling. Molly had thought that Dr Tyler would have made her feel even more angry than her Dad and Judy's blatant patronising, but surprisingly, this woman's easy smile and kind eyes seemed to set her at ease, strangely.

Molly shook her hand briefly, still not feeling completely comfortable. The anger still churned in the pit of her stomach; there was no reason for her to see a psychologist. She wasn't going mad, or senile. However, Dr Tyler seemed to sense her frustration and wariness and smiled warmly, dropping her hand. "I know they call me Dr Tyler, but you can call me Annie."

* * *

_**Sorry this chapter is a little short, but I thought that was a good place to leave it on. So...any of you see that coming? :D As always, thanks for reading and reviews are more than welcome!**_

_**X =D**_


	7. Crazy

_**Hey everyone! I just want to thank you all for your lovely reviews; I'm glad you liked the plot twist last chapter. :D Sorry again about the delay – revision, exams, etc. You get the picture. :P Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always, the feedback is greatly appreciated!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes. Just the boxsets, which I've been geeking out on for this story. :P **_

_**Chapter 7 – Crazy**_

* * *

_Thursday, 14th August, 2008_

Molly stared at the psychologist, her soft Manchester accent ringing in her ears, her eyes wide. _Annie. _Annie _Tyler_. There was a long pause, in which Annie noticed the surprised expression on Molly's face, the look of realisation in her eyes.

"Annie Tyler?" Molly asked, hardly daring to believe in what she was thinking, what she was presuming. "As in, married to _Sam_ Tyler?"

Annie frowned, and this time it was her turn to look surprised. She looked at Molly curiously for a second, taking a small step backwards as she spoke. "Well, yes... I was married to a Sam Tyler." Her frown deepened. "How did you know my husband's name?"

Molly swallowed, thoughts and theories running through her head at one hundred miles per hour. It was strange; ever since her Mum died, she had thought her dreams were the craziest thing about the whole situation – they confused her more than anything had ever confused her in her life. But this... Annie Tyler, stood before her... This was _insane_. "I, erm..." Her eyes flickered to the welcoming looking couch and armchair in the office. "Can I sit down please?"

Swallowing too and still with a puzzled, but curious frown on her face, Annie nodded and gestured to the sofa whilst she sat down in the chair and faced Molly. "How did you know my husband's name, Molly?"

"He died, didn't he?" Molly asked, sounding as though she were thinking aloud more than anything. She was looking past Annie, at the unremarkable, abstract art hanging on the wall behind her desk, but her gaze moved to meet the older woman's every few seconds or so. "He tried to get back here, but he died... Or maybe, maybe he came back to you...Yes; he must have come back to you and lived there for a while longer, because otherwise you wouldn't have married him. He wasn't married to you when he woke up here, when he jumped off that building to get back to you..."

"I'm sorry," Annie said, leaning forwards a little, her hands in her lap as she looked with curiosity at her newest patient; her expression was one of barely disguised confusion. "But how do you know all of this, Molly? How do you know my husband's name, how do you know he died?"

Molly seemed to snap out of her thought-trance slightly and looked back at Annie's face. "My Mum... she was his psychologist, sort of. Sam Tyler was a DCI in the Met police two years ago, but he got hit by a car and went into a coma. When he woke up, he made tapes, telling the stories of how he was in a different world when he was in a coma. I used to briefly read Mum's case files when she wasn't looking."

There was a silence, in which Annie stared with wide eyes at Molly, her mouth hanging slightly open. The creases and wrinkles on her forehead seemed to deepen as she looked at her with a mixture of realisation, worry and curiosity. "Sam...He used to say those sorts of things all the time. He used to tell me he was in a coma, that he had to wake up and get back home. Then there was a case – he almost got killed, shot by some armed blaggers, I think...After that, he didn't talk about it anymore. He stopped saying all the weirdo things he used to say and settled down, got used to it all. I always thought he was just a bit mental and once he'd forgotten it, I did too. I never even thought he could have been telling the truth, I didn't really care once he'd stopped talking about it. I loved him..."

A faint, faraway smile faintly showed on Molly's face. "He loved you too... You were mentioned a lot in the case file, but I never got to read about the others or learn their names. I know now that one of them was called Ray, and then the big man – the rude one, his last name is Hunt." She paused, then looked up to meet Annie's gaze, a hopeful look in her eyes. "So, Sam must have come back to you in the seventies after he committed suicide then. Does that mean he's still alive, can I see him? Can I ask him about it, about Hunt, and the others? Because maybe then I can figure out what's happened to my Mum!" For the first time in weeks, Molly had a wide smile on her face, and she felt genuinely excited about something, eagerness rising up inside her.

In that one moment, she knew what she would do; she would find out about this mysterious world that Sam Tyler had been sent to, that her Mum had been sent to, and she would get her back. She would get her Mum back; bring her back to the real world the way Sam Tyler had come back. Molly didn't know how exactly, but where there was a will, there was a way. And her Mum _must_ be alive there, and her dreams _must_ be real, because Annie was real. Suddenly, it was all making sense. She grinned at Annie.

But, to Molly's dismay, a look of sadness crept into Annie's eyes, her expression turning apologetic as she leant forwards, her melancholic gaze meeting Molly's. "Sam is dead, Molly... We got married, we were together for nearly seven years, but he died... In 1980, he was chasing some criminals when his car went into the canal..." She bit down on her lower lip and reached out for Molly's hand. The young girl was suddenly still as stone. "I'm so sorry, Molly, you can't talk to him. But..." She took a deep breath, trying to suppress her own tears as tiny glistening drops of salty water ran solemnly down Molly's face, disappointment clear in the depths of her gaze. "I can tell you everything I can remember, I can bring photos next time, help you work out what these dreams you're having mean. Your Dad said you've been having them every night since you went to live with him, is that true?"

Molly sniffed, all the happiness and hope that had been in her heart just moments before leaving in one swift exodus. She was left again with the gaping hole in her chest, rawer and more painful than ever before... It was silly, but she felt like she'd lost her Mum all over again. In that one, brilliant moment, Molly had been so sure there was a way of getting her Mum back. She swiped at the tears on her face and nodded tearfully. "Yeah, every night... But..." She looked up and sniffed again, wiping away more tears. "Do you promise?"

Squeezing Molly's hand with one of her own, and reaching for a tissue with the other, Annie asked, "Promise what?"

"That you'll help me," Molly said quietly, a note of desperation in her voice. "Promise that you'll help me work out the dreams, and tell me all about that world, those people. Because it must be real, they must be true... Please, promise me you'll help and not just write that I'm crazy or delusional or whatever in your assessment thingy..."

Annie smiled, a warm, reassuring smile like the one she had given Molly when she first came in. "I promise, Molly, you're not crazy. No crazier than Sam, anyway." She chuckled a little at that, and was rewarded with a small, watery smile. "Now," she said, breathing deeply as they both brushed their tears away. "You've got to promise me something too. Every time you wake up from one of these dreams, you need to write it down for me. Write down everything you can remember that happened, all your thoughts, everything you saw, and then bring what you've written every time you see me. Can you do that for me?"

Molly nodded and squeezed Annie's hand back. "Yeah, of course... And you'll tell me all about it, about where my Mum is?"

She nodded and smiled back at the young girl. "Of course. But this is just our secret, Molly, okay? As far as your Dad knows, I'm assessing you in here; I'm helping you through your grief. Which in a way, I am, just not...the conventional way, shall we say?"

Molly nodded again and smiled, feeling suddenly grateful for Annie's understanding. When her Dad and Judy had brought her here, she had been so sure she was going to hate it, that she was just going to be patronised and labelled and treated like a grief-stricken psycho. But Annie understood, she wanted to _help_, and that meant the world to her. "No problem," she said, drying off the last of her tears. "I won't say a thing. And...Thank you, for believing me."

Smiling, Annie got up, put the tissues away and went to open the door for her. "You're welcome, Molly... You know I never thought Sam was telling the truth, but he must have been... He must really have been from the future, from 2006, and I never believed him."

Molly returned the smile slightly and slipped out the door to where her Dad and Judy were waiting.

"See you next week then, Molly," Annie said.

"See you next week," she mumbled, trying to sound ungrateful and annoyed. She scowled at her Dad for extra measure and muttered under her breath, "I'm not bloody crazy, and I'm not depressed either. Stupid woman."

Beside her, her Dad sighed, but said nothing as they made their way out to the car. But inside, Molly felt something she hadn't felt in a while – hope. Hope and something else that made her want to punch the air – some sort of feeling of victory over her Dad and Judy, that she and the psychologist they had hoped would 'sort her out' were in each other's confidence, that Annie _believed _her, and wasn't siding with them. And that, Molly found, that felt good. For the first time a while, she felt part of something. And she was determined, whatever the cost, to be with her Mum again. They _would_ blow out the candles together.

* * *

_**Again, sorry it's not the longest chapter – I just managed to get this written in between revising, etc. I hope it's okay anyway, thanks for reading and reviews never fail to make my day!**_

_**X =D**_


	8. Betrayal

_**Hello, strangers! First of all, a massive, massive apology for the delay with this chapter. Just when I thought my exams were finished, I suddenly got hit with having to memorise an English essay, and a French essay for controlled assessments next week, and I also have lots of rehearsals for a school show I'm in. So really, really sorry to have kept you all waiting this long! Oh, and also, have fixed the date at the top of the last chapter – I accidentally wrote the wrong date, looking at the wrong bit of my plan. :P Thank you very much for your reviews, and here is a slightly longer chapter that will hopefully make up for the wait. :D Happy reading!**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes. :D**_

_**Chapter 8 – Betrayal**_

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_Friday, 11__th__ August, 2008_

Molly was just getting ready for bed when she heard the sound of David Bowie's 'Ashes to Ashes' coming from her bedroom. Remembering how Evan had set her ringtone as that for her before giving her the BlackBerry, saying he was trying to educate her in eighties music, Molly spat into the sink, put down her toothbrush and quickly went to pick it up.

_Do you remember a guy that's been, in such an early song?_

_I've heard a rumour from Ground Control; oh no, don't say it's true..._

_They got a message from the Action Man – _

'_I'm happy, hope you're happy too'..._

The song cut off as Molly picked the phone up, glanced at the caller ID and held it to her ear. "Evan!"

"Hey, Molls, how you doing? I tried to ring you the other night; did you have your phone off?"

A faint smile made its way onto Molly's face at the sound of her godfather's voice. She was still in reasonably good spirits after her meeting with Annie the previous day and for the first time since her Mum had died, she was actually looking forward to going to sleep that night, to see what her dreams would bring. What had started out as a horrifying, confusing and upsetting experience for Molly had soon morphed into one she relished – any chance to see her Mum again was a chance she now eagerly anticipated, just in case her dreams brought her images of her again, even if the others, and Hunt, were involved. "I'm okay, just glad you called..." Molly bit down slightly on her lip as she made her way over to sit on her bed. "This place is stupid though," she told Evan, looking around her bedroom. "It's as if they think a big house with a trampoline is going to make up for the fact that..." She trailed off, knowing that her godfather would understand what she meant.

"I know, Scrap, I know... But you just have to stay strong, and be good for me. I'm sorry you can't be here with me, I've tried everything, but the judge's decision is final. I can't appeal... I feel like I let you down, Molly. I feel like I let your Mum down."

Molly heard him heave a sigh down the other end of the phone, and it struck her just how exhausted he sounded, as though he had been awake all night, every night since she left. The thought brought a lump to her throat as a fresh wave of homesickness and grief washed over her and the hand that wasn't holding her BlackBerry to her ear curled up into a fist at the injustice of it all. She and Evan needed to be together to be strong for each other, and maybe then she would have someone else to talk about the dreams to, maybe Evan knew something about whoever the Hunt man was, and where her Mum was trapped. "You didn't let us down, Evan. It's not your fault." She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes tight shut before opening them again and staring out of the window at the darkening sky and trampoline, still not used. "Will you come visit me at some point, before I start school?" she suddenly asked, and she was surprised to hear the desperation in her own voice. "It's this horrible posh, private place with a stupid uniform and I don't want to go, but Dad's making me, and Judy keeps going on about how good it'll be for me, and-"

Evan interrupted her. "Scrap, breathe, everything's going to be okay. Of course I'll come visit you, as soon as I get an afternoon free or something, I'll be up the motorway like a shot, I promise."

His calming voice soothed her slightly, and Molly wet her lips and swallowed, sniffing to push back the tears that were threatening to fall again. "I miss you," she said, her voice a lot quieter than before. "I miss Mum so much, Evan, I feel like I'm never going to get used to the fact that I'm never going to see her again... It's like there's this massive hole in my chest that won't ever go away. Why did he have do that, why did Mum have to die?"

Even to her own ears, Molly knew she sounded childish. There was no use in questioning her Mum's death now – she was dead, she had been shot, and that was that. There was no reversal, no hidden reasons. It was just the way it was, the way things had gone.

"Shh, shh," Evan soothed, picking up on the note of hysteria beginning to rise in his goddaughter's voice. "I don't know, Molls. Sometimes bad things happen, and often to the wrong people, and there's nothing you can do about it, Scrap. I miss your Mum too, every single day, and I miss you as well." He sighed again, sounding weary and, heartbreakingly for Molly, old. "I've got to go now, Molls, but I'll ring you soon, okay?"

Nodding, though she knew he couldn't see her, Molly sniffed again and wiped her nose with her sleeve. "Okay, bye, Evan."

"Bye, Scrap, love you. Stay strong, yeah?"

"Yeah...Bye."

And with that a small bleep sounded in Molly's ear to signal the call was finished, and she put the phone down on her bedside table. Feeling suddenly tired and not in the happier mood she had been in before Evan, and reality, had given her a call, she climbed under the covers and turned out the lamp next to her bed with a sigh. She fell asleep with David Bowie's voice singing in her head...

_I'm happy, hope you're happy too..._

* * *

_She was sat down this time and in, Molly realised as she looked around, her Mum's flat again. It was dimly lit, the room bathed in a red sort of glow from the various retro lamps dotted about. Her Mum was stood with her back to her, surveying a makeshift calendar that was pinned to the wall, surrounded by various photos, numbers and newspaper cuttings. Molly frowned, trying to make sense of it all, but her thoughts were cut off when her Mum half-turned to face her, holding out a familiar little pink troll, it's hair stood up as though electrocuted. _

"_You had one of these, didn't you, Moll?" _

_Molly froze and in a trance, reached out to take the troll from her Mum. She was talking to her. As in, actually talking to her, acknowledging that she was there... Could she see her, finally? Anticipation bubbled up inside Molly's chest, hope rising within her as she looked down at the troll, then back up at her Mum to say something, but she had turned away again. _

"_Somebody killed my Mum and Dad. Someone planted a bomb under their car and set it off. Someone who knows how to stay hidden, how to cover their tracks..." _

_Molly's heart sank as she realised her Mum was just talking to herself again, imagining she was there. All she was, and all she ever would be in this place, was a ghost, an invisible projection whilst her Mum interacted with the people who Molly regarded as projections – Ray, the other man, the young woman and Hunt... She handed the troll back to her Mum. _

"_She's right, I am in difficult territory."_

_Before Molly could even attempt to ask what her Mum meant, a phone rang, and the ringing filled her ears, deafening her as the familiar blackness descended again, and her Mum and the flat faded from view. _

* * *

_She was somewhere unfamiliar this time. A living room, with adjoining kitchen or dining room, she couldn't tell, and the well furnished room was filled with people. Molly immediately recognised all but one of them. There was her Mum, Hunt, Ray, and the other man who always seemed a little clueless, and then there was another woman whose face rang a bell in her distant memory, but who she couldn't quite place. Her Mum was staring at the ground, or rather glaring at it, and hurt and anger seemed to roll off of her in waves. Why was she so upset? Molly's eyes flickered to the unfamiliar woman, her gaze searching her face, and then it clicked. Grandma Price, her Mum had always referred to her as. She had died before Molly was born, when her Mum was only a little girl... Her Mum had always told her stories about how Granddad Price had read 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe' to her before bed every night, and she had heard all about the presents Evan used to shower her with. But Molly knew precious little about Caroline Price – the grandmother she had never met or seen, save for in a few photographs. And so it was with wide eyes and open ears that she listened to the exchange taking place in the room. _

_Her Mum stepped forward, and Molly sensed a look of betrayal on her face. She seemed to talk to Caroline, her mother... Molly knew from the look on her Mum's face that she knew who she was talking to, so why did she look so furious, so upset? Where was her Mum's father, Tim Price, the man she had heard so much more about? _

"_How long had it been going on?" her Mum asked. _

_Caroline looked affronted. "What?"_

_Her Mum swallowed, and looked her in the eye again. "You and Evan, how long?"_

_Molly gasped, and then quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard her sharp intake of breath, but no-one had. Of course. She swallowed, and then returned her gaze to her Mum and grandmother, her eyes wide and shocked. Evan and... her? She didn't understand, wasn't sure if she wanted to understand... One thing she did know for sure, was that this explained why her Mum looked as hurt as she did. _

_Caroline looked worried, concerned, almost, as she replied. "A few weeks. Nothing-"_

_Her Mum interrupted her. "Who started it?" _

"_I beg your pardon?"_

_Her Mum fixed her with a hard glare, and Molly was sure she'd never seen her Mum look as angry as she did then. Hunt and the others were watching with grim expressions, but looking slightly confused as to why her Mum was taking it so personally – it was probably just another dirty little secret for them. But... why were they all at her grandmother's house anyway? Where was her Mum? As in, the younger version of her Mum. Molly frowned; she just couldn't work any of it out. _

"_You heard me," her Mum said blankly. _

"_I'm not sure what that's got to do with anything-"_

_Caroline stopped speaking as her Mum walked forwards, looking accusingly at her, anger and loathing clear in her eyes. "Plenty of opportunity though...Friend of the family, always round here, late nights with case studies, cheese and wine. Let's have another one, Evan. Daddy's away." Her voice was rising in volume and pitch, her rage increasing. "I know, let's do it; let's do it here, on the floor! Was I up- was your _daughter_ asleep? Was she sleeping upstairs while you were _shagging_ her godfather?" _

_Molly couldn't breathe. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak. All she could do was stare at her Mum and grandmother – the former enraged, fuming, and the latter attempting to stay calm and serene, but nonetheless, the guilt in her expression couldn't be denied. So it was true. Evan, her Mum's godfather, _her_ godfather, had once had an affair with Caroline Price, the grandmother Molly barely ever heard about... A sinking feeling penetrated her stomach, and she felt like all her muscles were shaking, her bones trembling..._

_It was all too much for her – too much information, too many emotions whirling a tornado through her body at the same time. And as the darkness descended again, all Molly could hear were her mother's words echoing in her head, and then Ashes to Ashes playing again as the scene melted away before her eyes. _

'_Was your daughter asleep? Was she sleeping upstairs while you were shagging her godfather?'...I'm happy, hope you're happy too..._

* * *

Molly woke up with a start, her eyes thrown wide open and for a moment, before the haze and noise in her head cleared, she wasn't sure why she had been jolted awake. And then the words came back to her, the conversation between her Mum and Caroline Price, about Evan and... A shuddered, staggered breath escaped her and it was a split second before Molly realised she was crying, her breathing sharp and ragged as everything crashed down around her. Evan, her _godfather_ had had an affair with her Mum's mother? His friend's wife, his friend, his goddaughter's mother... Molly couldn't get her head around it, couldn't get used to the idea, could barely dare to think about it. The first thing she did was grab the BlackBerry from her bedside table and throw it visciously to the ground with a wild sob in a moment of blind anger. How could he? How _could_ he do that to her, to his friend, to her Mum?

Evan was her rock now that her Mum was gone. He was her godfather, the only person in the world who seemed to truly care for her and love her, yet even he had secrets, a darkened past... Molly sniffed, swiping angrily at the tears on her face as though hating them for their weakness. Was there anyone in her world who she could completely trust? Was there _anything_, actually, that she could trust? Because these dreams, when she was having them, they felt so real, like she was actually there, and her Mum was there, in all her glory... And this waking life was barely a life anymore, it didn't feel right, she didn't belong... Running a hand through her hair and over her damp face, Molly let out a ragged sigh and pushed back more tears. And then, she reached down, returned her BlackBerry to its rightful place, took out a notepad and pen from the drawer in her bedside table and began to write down everything she could remember.

* * *

_**So, Molly knows all about Evan now! I hope you liked this chapter, and I'll try my best not to leave it too long till the next chapter, though I'm afraid I can't make any promises – apart from one. And that is that the next chapter *will* contain Galex! :P Thanks for reading, and reviews make me smile and brighten my day, which I could really use in amongst all the rehearsals, English and French! :P **_

_**X =D**_


	9. Blurred

_**Oh my God, I am SO sorry about the ridiculous amount of time I've made you wait for this chapter; I would not be surprised if the readers I still have left have got bored and decided to desert this story! I've left you hanging for over a month on a promise of Galex, and I really apologise for that! The promised Galex is here though, so without further ado, I hope you enjoy and thanks to those still reviewing this story – I know I don't deserve them with the delays there have been between chapter due to holidays and stuff. :/ **_

_**P.S – I think this is probably a good time to mention the film that actually inspired this story, as this chapter is going to mention a few things that I got from the film, and helped me think up the concept for this story. The film I'm talking about is the amazing 'Inception', starring Leonardo DiCaprio, and directed by the amazing Christopher Nolan. It's an absolutely fantastic film, so if you haven't seen it, I recommend you rent/buy it and watch it! :D And the quote in particular that inspired the story is this – 'They come here every day to sleep?'... 'No, they come to be woken up. The dream has become their reality. And who are you to say otherwise?'. **_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes. :(**_

_**Chapter 9 – Blurred**_

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_Tuesday, 15__th__ August, 2008 _

One month. It had been over a month since her Mum died, since her world had fallen apart, since the massive burning hole had been ripped in her chest. A month since Molly had seen her Mum face to face in the waking world. But that was just it... _the waking world_. The lines were starting to blur, and Molly wasn't sure about calling it 'real life' anymore. It scared her, terrified and confused her, but in that other world, where her Mum was alive, and where she was surrounded by those strangers, watching them solve cases, wearing colourful clothes, Molly felt more alive. It didn't matter that no-one could see her or hear her when she said anything, things felt _better_ there. When she was there, she could feel the breeze through her hair. She felt the rain and the sun on her face; she could see every little detail of her surroundings. And everything was just so much _brighter_ in her dreams.

If they even were dreams.

Colours seemed more vibrant, sound had more volume, scents in the air were more distinct, everything had more texture, more warmth. And that was why Molly had started going to bed earlier, and waking later. That was why all she ever wanted to do was sleep, and why she never complained when her Dad suggested that she get ready for bed. Because the lines were starting to blur, fact and fiction were merging together, the world was spinning around her. And on more than one occasion, Molly found herself wondering...

What if this _wasn't _real? What if her world, with her Dad and Judy and Evan, wasn't real? What if the dreams were actually what was real? What if that was the real world, where her Mum was alive, where everything seemed so much better? What if... what if her 'life' was simply an illusion to hide the world she had been told was just in her head?

These days, Molly spent her waking life in a haze. She did nothing, she went nowhere, she barely spoke to anyone, not even her Dad, or Evan. He'd called twice since Friday night, the night she had found out all about his affair with Caroline Price, and each time, Molly had simply let her phone ring out. Each time, she had picked it up, had stared at the caller ID and hovered her thumb over the pick-up button. But she couldn't press it, couldn't bring herself to talk to him. Because how could she ever confront him, or let him know that she knew? He would ask how she knew – who had told her? And then she would have nothing to say. Because she could hardly tell him about her dreams, about the world where her Mum was still alive, nearly thirty years in the past. Molly snorted to herself; yeah, that would go down well.

But the truth was, 'real life' didn't feel like real life anymore. Molly looked around her every day and felt like she didn't belong, she repeatedly took her new school uniform from the wardrobe and couldn't, no matter how hard she tried, picture herself at St. Dominic's. Food didn't taste the way it once did, everything felt almost cold to the touch, colours weren't bright, and nothing sounded quite loud enough. Molly knew that if she ever told anyone this, even Annie, they would say that it was in her mind, that it was the grief removing her from reality and that she would get used to it and everything would be okay eventually. But... Molly didn't _want_ it to be. She didn't want this life to feel real, she didn't want to belong in Judy's big house in Cheshire, she didn't want to fit in at some posh, stuck up school. She wanted to be where her Mum was, where everything and everyone was so much more alive.

* * *

_She wasn't sat down this time, or stood up, lingering in the background. Molly felt like she was floating, held up by some invisible force as she looked down at the small darkened room below, filled with filing cabinets, a large, heavy-duty looking door taking up a whole wall. The heat around her was stifling, and Molly could already feel sweat beading on her forehead, her throat longing for a rush of cool air. The heat prickled down her back, spread throughout her entire body in the darkness. And then, it grew brighter; someone lit a cigarette lighter, flames danced on the walls and illuminated her Mum, and the man... Hunt. Molly gasped, eyes widening as she looked down at the two of them; they were both sat side by side, backs against the wall. Her Mum was wearing what looked like a red satin bodice, her red lips parted as she breathed heavily, the previously tight curls hanging loose around her shoulders, sweat running down the side of her face. _

_Hunt was staring up at the ceiling, or, Molly thought, at _her_. His stormy eyes seemed to pierce her, and the atmosphere was suddenly charged, electricity buzzing chemically with the heat that was beginning to suffocate her. _

"_Oh dear lord, if this is a test, I fear I may fail..." His eyes snapped away from Molly, though she knew he couldn't actually see her, to look at her Mum. An uncomfortable feeling ran down her spine as he dragged his appreciative gaze over her and Molly swallowed, breathing in more hot air. _

"_And I thought it'd be the booze or the fags, but oh no. I'm going t' die in an underground vault in the company of a posh mouthy tart, with a head full of brains, and the common sense of a grain weevil."_

_Molly waited for her Mum to shout at him, for her to slap him round the face and tell him not to be so disrespectful. She couldn't believe she was letting him talk about her like that. Hell, Molly couldn't believe her Mum was actually letting him _look_ at her like that. But to her surprise, her Mum just smiled at him, and then... Then there was a moment, a strange moment in which they both looked at each other and Molly suddenly didn't feel uncomfortable or angry at Hunt at all. Instead, she just felt embarrassed, almost ashamed, as if she was intruding on a moment that was just meant to be shared between the two of them. _

"_We're not going to die. I can't die. Can I?" Her Mum looked more vulnerable than she had ever seen her be, tears were brimming in her eyes and her voice grew fearful. "Can I?"_

_Hunt looked at her, and again Molly felt that burning sense of shame that she was watching something that wasn't for her to see. It was just them. But then her Mum's words sank in... Die? She wanted to shout out that no, she couldn't die, not again. Her Mum couldn't die now, could she? Fear rose up in Molly's chest, and she almost breathed a heavy sigh of relief when Hunt lifted up his arm to wrap around her Mum, pulling her closer. _

"_Come here..."_

_A lump rose up in Molly's throat as she stared at them. Her Mum's head was resting on his chest, her fingers playing absentmindedly with the chain around his neck as Hunt looked down at her almost... tenderly? Their breathing was heavy, as was hers, the heat smothering every inch of her body as she wondered where she was exactly, how could she see into the vault? And why was her Mum trapped in there with Hunt in the first place? _

_After a moment, her Mum slowly lifted her head, meeting Hunt's stormy gaze with tears in her eyes. "Gene..."_

_Darkness suddenly shrouded Molly and the vault, the flames no longer danced on the walls. And all she could make out as she drifted away was the man – Hunt – Gene's words, almost drowned out by the sound of a fire alarm. _

"_I know." _

* * *

"Pete, we're going to need to get Molly some sort of professional help, and I'm not just talking about a psychologist... there's something..." Judy sighed, running one hand over her face as she leant back against the kitchen worktop and looked at her partner. "There's something wrong with her, Pete, and you know there is. Even after losing someone, people don't just walk around all day in a trance the way she does... I try to talk to her, and she ignores me. She barely eats, she doesn't talk, and she barely ever lifts her eyes from the ground. And when she does... Pete, there's no life in them. It's like her body's here, but everything else is... Everything else is in another world."

Letting out a long sigh, Pete ran two hands through his hair and slumped a little, as though defeated. "I know, Judy, I know." He sounded torn, broken, as though he simply didn't have the strength to care for much longer. "But what are we supposed to do? If we leave it, she might get worse; if we try and do something, she might try to run away, or try to-" He stopped speaking abruptly, but both he and Judy knew what he had been about to say.

"Hell," he said after a silent moment, "She doesn't even pick up when Evan calls anymore. I saw – he rang her yesterday whilst she was sat on the steps in the garden. She just stared at her phone until it stopped ringing, and the look on her face... It's like she's finally decided to be angry at absolutely everyone, because they're alive, and her Mum isn't."

* * *

_Molly barely had time to gather breath, to take deep gulps of the cool air in the darkness before a new, more familiar scene materialised in front of her. Her head was swimming from what she had seen in the vault – the way Hunt – Gene, as she now knew his first name was, had looked at her Mum. Now, there was more than just 'I want you' in his eyes, it was something that ran deeper than that, but Molly couldn't put her finger on it. _

_This time, she was stood in the Italian restaurant, which she had learnt was called Luigi's, watching from a distance as her Mum and Gene sat at a small table together, talking quietly. Even though they were in a public place, the image of them sat together so closely seemed again intimate to Molly, like she shouldn't perhaps be watching as closely as she was. Gene was looking at her Mum again, with that same look in his eyes, though maybe this time there was some mischief, a suggestive glint, there as well, and her Mum was looking back at him, her head propped up with one hand. _

"_So what are you, a C or a D cup?" _

_Instead of telling him off, the same way Molly had expected her to do in the vault, her Mum gave him a flirtatious smile, and there was a look in her eyes that seemed to say something along the lines of 'Why don't you try and find out?'. The same feeling of embarrassment and shame spread through Molly again, and she looked away for a second, but couldn't help but allow her gaze to be dragged back to the two of them. _

_Gene had shifted slightly closer to her Mum, so that their foreheads were almost touching now as they looked into each others' eyes and seemed to be saying things to each other, wordlessly. The look on her Mum's face seemed to be saying 'thank you' and 'I'm sorry' both at the same time. Molly noticed her Mum's hand had covered his on the table, her delicate fingers intertwining with his long ones as a sultry smile spread across her face. There was a similar look on Gene's face – something halfway between a teasing smirk and a smile, and Molly found herself holding her breath as both seemed to lean closer, their noses touching briefly for a second before... _

_They kissed. _

_The breath Molly had been holding left her swiftly, and she quickly took more air in as she gasped, frozen as she stared transfixed at her Mum and... This man. This man who had seemed to her so brutal at first, who had seemed crude and not at all her Mum's type... But as time had gone on, as Molly had had more dreams, she had begun to see a different side of him, a softer side, she supposed. He was still rude, by anyone's standards, but... Somehow, though she never thought she'd have said it, but somehow she could suddenly understand why her Mum was kissing him. _

_He kissed her gently, one hand coming up to rest lightly against her jaw as their lips moulded together, and Molly was struck again by how intimate a moment could be, despite being in a very public, and very loud place. She glanced over quickly to where the rest of CID was, and not one of them had seemed to notice, apart from the dark haired Essex girl. She was staring over at her two senior officers with a big grin on her face, her eyes alight with happiness. Molly watched as she turned back to her boyfriend and the others, and for a moment she thought the young woman was going to tell them, but she didn't. She stayed silent, and her Mum and Gene remained locked gently together, frozen in one intimate moment in time. _

_And it was then, as Molly watched Gene kiss her Mum gently, tenderly... lovingly? It was then that she realised just how _real_ this dream seemed to be. The sound of CID's laughter at one of Ray's jokes was loud in her ears, the clink of glasses and scrape of chairs surrounded her, the pleasant warmth was nice on her face, the soft lighting cast intricate shadows everywhere, the emotion almost bled from the kissing couple sat at the table in the corner... Her Mum... Gene... Everyone was _so alive_. _

_But as the darkness descended, everything around her began to fade, and Molly held onto the image of her Mum's face, being gently cradled in Gene's hands for as long as she could before it was consumed by blackness. And the last thing she heard before waking up was a voice, seeming to drift to her from down a long tunnel. The accent was Caribbean, but his voice was wise... _

'_When you can feel, then you're alive. When you don't feel, you're not.'_

* * *

_**Cue dramatic music! I hope this chapter was okay, and that the Galex was believable. I could have gone into more detail with the kiss, but I had to remember that I was writing as if Molly was just watching it, so she wouldn't know the ins and outs of exactly what was happening, if you catch my drift... :P Thank you very much for reading, again I'm really sorry about the delay, I will try my best to be quicker this time as I'm not going much of anywhere except the lake district for a few days now, but I should be able to write there, so yeah... Anyway, review, I need to know what you think! Please, with cheap plonk and Gene Hunt on top? :P**_

_**X =D**_


	10. Awake

_**Well, look at this speedy update! :D Well, relatively speedy compared to my usual uselessness, at any rate. A big thank you to those still reading and reviewing this story – you really mean a lot to me. And hey, I might as well do a bit of shameless advertising here and say that I've started a new Ashes story, which will be packed with Galex this time, called 'A Scarlet Letter', so I'd be beyond grateful if you checked that out, if you haven't already! Anyway, I'll shut up now and let you read. :D**_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes. :P**_

_**Chapter 10 – Awake**_

* * *

_Wednesday, 16__th__ August, 2008._

Annie looked up from Molly's dream notes with wide, surprised eyes. "They kissed?"

Nodding, Molly fiddled a little nervously with one slightly broken fingernail and met her psychologist's gaze. "Yeah, in Luigi's..." She bit her lip. "It was kind of... sweet, in a way. I mean, a week ago and I would have tried to hit him, but..." A small smile somehow strayed its way onto Molly's face. "Gene Hunt has kind of grown on me."

A similar smile replaced the surprise on Annie's face for a moment as she let out a small sigh. "Yes," she murmured to her, "He does that."

"I hated him at first... Well, I didn't believe in him; I thought it was all just in my head and I wondered why I'd thought up this horrible, rude, brutish man to be working with my Mum, but... It's like there's this other side to him that no-one sees much."

Annie's head tilted to one side slightly as she studied her patient. Some of the photos she still had from the good old days with Sam, Gene and the team in Manchester were scattered on the coffee table in front of them where Molly had been sifting through them, asking questions about the people in her dreams. "You say you used to think that everything you saw in your dreams was just in your head, Molly... Well, don't you think that now?"

Molly shook her head, and a faraway look came into her eyes as she stared down at the pictures, her gaze fixing on a fading photograph that had been taken by chance of Gene and Sam in a pub. Sam was grinning at his Guv, a pint held in his hand, and Gene was looking down at his own drink, a laugh just visible on his face too, as though the pair had just shared a joke before the picture was taken. Gene looked younger in the picture than he did in his dreams, Molly thought, not as careworn or sullen.

"No," she eventually murmured in reply to Annie's question. "It's just, the dreams look more real now, like it's all actually happening. It's like I've got to know them all and the stuff that goes on; it's just like this whole other world, but it doesn't feel fake... Everything sounds real there; I can even smell things like his cigarette smoke and my Mum's perfume." Molly looked up and met Annie's slightly concerned gaze. "It just _feels_ real, like I'm more alive there. This," she gestured to the room they were in, "Doesn't feel as colourful or real as Mum's world does. I..."

Molly's voice began to take on the tone of confession, and she didn't notice the look of growing alarm on Annie's face, or the deepening concern in her eyes.

"I sometimes think that maybe Mum's world _is_ the real world, and that all this is just a dream. Because everything just feels so much better there, as though I'm somehow more alive when I'm there or something. It's like..." Molly's voice dropped down to a whisper without her knowing it, as though her subconscious almost didn't want Annie to hear what she was going to say. "It's like, when I fall asleep at night, I'm not falling asleep at all... I'm waking up."

* * *

Annie stared at her newest patient, visibly alarmed as Molly stared down at the pictures on the coffee table, as if in a trance. She knew something weird was going on, that there had to have been some truth to the nonsense Sam had always spouted out before he started acting 'normally'. How else would this twelve year old girl know about her husband, or Gene, or about any of them? There had to be some sort of reason for her dreams, but Annie had no idea what that might be, or what the hell was happening. But surely, they were _just_ dreams, and not reality, like Molly was suggesting? Because if that world – her Mum's world, as she was calling it – was real, then what did that make her world? Surely that was the same, because she had once been a part of the world in Molly's dreams, just before her Mum had arrived there? The whole thing was a mess, and Annie was sure even the most experienced of psychologists couldn't come up with one plausible, scientific explanation for what was happening to Molly. It was, in a word, unexplainable. What was it? Parallel universe? Time travel? Annie suddenly felt very, very old. All the pictures and Molly's descriptions of her dreams were reminding her that she was no longer the twenty something year old she once was.

"Oh, and there's another thing," Molly said, rousing Annie from her thoughts. "I heard this voice before I... came back." She couldn't bring herself to describe it as waking anymore. "It sounded foreign – Caribbean, maybe, or Jamaican or something – but it didn't come from anyone in Luigi's. I heard it just as the darkness started to come."

"And what did it say, this voice?" Annie asked, though she had a feeling she already knew who it belonged to. There had always been something oddly mysterious about the barman of The Railway Arms.

A small frown puckered on Molly's face. "It said something about when you can feel, you're alive, and when you can't feel, you're not..." She dragged her gaze up from the photographs to look Annie in the eye. "But, I'm not really sure what that means."

Annie thought carefully before replying. "I think, Molly, that it means exactly what it says. When you're alive, you can feel things. And when you're not alive, you can't."

"But..." Her frown deepened, her eyebrows knitting closer together. "What's that got to do with anything? I mean, I'm alive, aren't I? I mean, I'm breathing. I'm not dead." She paused a beat, and then asked, "Why, do you know who said it? Who the voice was, I mean."

Swallowing, Annie thought carefully again, slowly looking from Molly's face, to the photographs and back again. "Of course you're alive, Molly, don't be silly," she said softly, and then swallowed noiselessly again. "And no... I don't know whose voice it was. Sorry."

The lie made her look back down at the photographs again as her mind raced. Nelson. But what did Nelson have to do with anything? He was a barman, from a very long time ago. But then, come to think of it, what did any of them have to do with anything? Molly's dreams were unexplainable.

* * *

The car ride back from the psychologist's was quiet that day, as Judy hadn't been able to come along, so there was no-one to attempt forced small talk or ask Molly how it had gone, what they had talked about. Pete drove in silence, taking his eyes occasionally off the road to glance at his even more distant than usual daughter. He opened his mouth countless times to say something, but each time the words refused to come, and he closed it again. In the end, it was Molly who spoke first.

"Dad, you know when you're dreaming, how do you _know_ that you're dreaming? How can you be sure it isn't real?"

A frown immediately came to Pete's face as he glanced at Molly again, then looked back at the road. Her question had taken him by surprise, but what had shocked him most was the absence of bitterness and anger in her voice. She hadn't spoken much since coming to live with him and Judy, but whatever words she did say had been laden with fury - resent and contempt clear in her tone. But not now. "That's a bit of a difficult question, Molly, I... I don't know. Because it doesn't _feel_ real when you're dreaming, I suppose. And it does when you're awake." The reasons Molly could have had for asking the question suddenly dawned on Pete as he answered, and he slowly brought the car to a stop in the lay-by.

"Why?" he asked, turning to look at his daughter properly. "Are you still having dreams about your Mum, Molly?"

Molly continued to stare straight ahead through the windscreen, as though she hadn't even noticed that they'd stopped. "Sometimes," she lied, whilst her inner voice supplied '_Every night.'_

"Well, Molly..." Pete was trying his best not to sound worried and forced his voice to be casual. "You know they're not real, don't you? It shouldn't be this way, and it's not right, but your Mum's dead. She can't come back."

"I know," she replied, because she had to. "I was just asking."

"Right. And you know that when you have these dreams about your Mum, they're not real, don't you?" His voice softened for a moment. "I wish I could bring her back for you, Molly, I really do. But I can't. And I know you don't like me very much at the moment, but I love you. You're my little girl, Molly, whatever might have happened in the past. And we're going to get through this, aren't we? And you know I love you."

Strangely, his words had an unexpected effect on Molly and for a moment, a lump rose in her throat, tears almost threatening to fall. She looked towards her Dad, and for the first time in a long while, met his gaze. She saw the worry in his eyes, and even felt bad for scaring him with her behaviour over the last few weeks. But she couldn't help it; she couldn't help what felt real and what didn't. Now though, she felt guilty, so although she didn't believe that she was going to get through 'this', Molly gave her Dad a small, weak smile and nodded. "Yeah... I know."

Pete smiled, sending a prayer up to a heaven he didn't quite believe in for helping him to start bringing his daughter around. He reached for Molly's hand and gave it a small squeeze. "Because this is what's real, Molls. And it's not nice at the moment, but we'll get through it. You feel alive when you're awake, don't you?"

"When I'm awake?" Molly asked, and then nodded with conviction. "Of course I feel alive when I'm awake."

With a smile, Pete let go of her hand and put the car in gear, pulling it back out into the road again. "Just wanted to make sure, Molls. Everything's going to be fine, you'll see. We'll work through this, and your Mum's going to be so proud of you."

Molly nodded again, a little abstractedly this time as she resumed her staring out of the window. She felt bad for her Dad; she did, because it wasn't his fault that she didn't feel like she belonged anymore. He had, if she was being honest, done everything he could to try and make her feel at home, to help her move on. But she couldn't, she couldn't stay here, couldn't move on here. Because this wasn't being awake. She wasn't alive here. And now, Molly thought, as she glanced at the digital clock in the car, it wasn't long until she could go to bed. It wasn't long before she'd be able to wake up again.

* * *

_**Hope that was okay, I kind of wrote it in record time. :D Thank you very much for reading, and reviews really do make my day, even if it's just a line to say quickly what you thought. Thanks again, and there's more to come soon, we're kind of hitting the home straight with this story now!**_

_**X =D**_


	11. Suicide

_**Ah, another reasonably speedy update! I am getting better. :D Anyway, thank you for the reviews as always, and let's get on with the show! **_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes, but I do own the boxsets, which I plan to have a marathon with next week before I go back to school! :P **_

_**Chapter 11 – Suicide**_

* * *

_Wednesday, 16__th__ August, 2008_

Molly was sat crossed legged on the end of her bed, the new laptop she had been given next to her, her eyes fixed on the screen when Pete entered her bedroom to say goodnight. As soon she heard her Dad enter the room, Molly jerked her head upwards and snapped down the top of her laptop.

Pete smiled at her. "Just came up to say goodnight, Molly. I thought maybe we could go out somewhere tomorrow; into Manchester maybe, do some shopping?"

"You hate shopping," Molly said, and for the first time since she had arrived, she started to feel a pang in her chest when she realised just how hard her Dad was _trying_ to make her feel at home. She was reminded again that it wasn't really his fault that what he was trying to do was impossible. She could never feel at home here in Cheshire, in 2008, because she was sure it wasn't where she belonged anymore. She belonged in London, with her Mum, whatever year that was.

Her Dad smiled again and stood back against the wall close to her bed, one hand in his trouser pocket. "It's not that bad. I haven't had a chance to spoil you rotten and buy you some new stuff in years. Come on, how about we make a day of it? We'll go into Manchester tomorrow and do some shopping, I'll let you have a McDonalds for lunch and then we'll go the cinema later on."

Biting her lip, Molly looked downwards into her lap and considered a moment. A few weeks ago she would have scowled at her Dad, would have accused him of trying to buy her affections, of trying to make up for the fact that her Mum wasn't there to take her shopping anymore instead. But even as she thought that, Molly felt an impossible yearning to be with her Mum again – her Mum always took her on the _best_ shopping trips. But again, it wasn't exactly her Dad's fault that he couldn't be the best – he was trying. He just wasn't her Mum. She looked up at him again. "Okay then... Sounds good. Will Judy be coming?"

Her Dad shrugged. "Not if you don't want her to. It can be just you and me if you like; she'll understand. I think she's got some work to be doing anyway."

Molly nodded, face pretty much expressionless. The prospect of going shopping with her Dad still loomed as awkward – what would they talk about? But it would be better if Judy wasn't there. When Molly was alone with her Dad, things were awkward, not much was said. But that was better than being forced into conversation by Judy's anxious small talk and desperate attempts to 'make everything alright again'. "Okay, then." She even gave her Dad a small smile. "See you in the morning."

Giving a brief grin, her Dad leant down and kissed the top of her head. "We'll have fun, Molly, and we can get you loads of new clothes and stuff. Sleep tight."

Molly watched as her Dad left the room and once he had, she breathed a sigh of relief. So... shopping. In Manchester. With her Dad. She supposed it didn't sound so bad; she might even get some stuff she wanted out of it, but... What did that matter, if she didn't want to be here long? Molly shook her head. She knew it was all alright thinking that – but how wasn't she going to be here long? She might feel more alive and more awake when she was supposedly dreaming, but that world was still only one she could access through her dreams. There was no way that she could see for her to access it permanently. And until she found a way, she was stuck in 2008 with her Dad and Judy... She was going to have to make the best of it until she could get back to her Mum and be where she belonged.

Biting down on her bottom lip again, and pausing for a second to listen out for anyone coming up the stairs, Molly opened the lid of her laptop back up and rubbed the keypad to bring the screen to life again. The BBC news page she had been looking at flickered into existence once more.

The news article was from two years ago – from 2006, when her Mum had started working on 'the book'. The news article was about a suicide – Sam Tyler's suicide. With a curious frown that slowly opened up into wide-eyed wonder, Molly read about how Sam Tyler had acted weirdly after waking from his coma. She read about how he had talked about another world, another life, about having to get back. She found out about how he had sat in a board meeting, and not even realised he was cutting into his own hand... She read how he had flung himself from the roof of New Scotland Yard, and never woken up. He had died, and no-one could understand why he had killed himself.

Except, Molly realised, he _had_ woken up, just not in this world. He had woken up in the 70s – in Annie's world, in Gene's world. Her Mum's world – the world from her dreams. So Sam had lived here, had been born here, but he had gone to that other world, the world she was so desperate to get to. And he had done it by killing himself...

A cold chill ran down Molly's spine, and her fingers quivered on the keyboard as she felt a strange churning sensation in the pit of her stomach. Suicide. That was the only way out? She thought of her Dad, of his well-meaning efforts to help her. She thought of Judy, annoying as she was, and her constantly worried expression. She thought of Evan, who she hadn't talked to for days, and of how much that would hurt him. And last of all, Molly thought of her Mum, of everything her Mum had ever taught her. Her Mum wouldn't want her to commit suicide, wouldn't want her to die and leave everything behind...

But what if it wasn't dying? What if she killed herself and the same thing that happened to Sam Tyler happened to her? What if she didn't die, but woke up instead? She could get to where she needed to be, to the world where she belonged, where her Mum was, where she felt so much more alive. And all she had to do was...

Molly gulped, the cold feeling spreading throughout her body. She couldn't do that, could she? Just the mere thought of it made her shudder, made her hands shake and stomach churn. Just minutes ago, she had been thinking of how she would do anything, _anything, _to be with her Mum again. She had thought that ever since she died, ever since Evan had told her they were turning the life support off. But now, now that she knew that that _anything_ was suicide... Could she do it? Could she kill herself, effectively, to be with her Mum again? Molly didn't know if she was strong enough. It was a hell of a risk, what if it didn't work? What if she just died, and never woke up? Who was to say that she was like her Mum or Sam Tyler? She wasn't a police officer; no-one had run her over or shot her in the head. She was making this choice for herself... But what if she couldn't get there?

With these thoughts running through her head, Molly tossed and turned in her bed all night. She couldn't get comfortable, and she couldn't think of any other solution. Her brain wouldn't be quiet, and when she did eventually get to sleep, her dreams were much more fragmented than usual – but vibrant and real as ever.

* * *

_A tape squeaked as it rewound. Smoke and bright, hot, orange flames filled the air, a loud explosion sounded, a car burst apart. Someone screamed, the smell of burning ash filled her lungs, and through the mess Molly could see her Mum, collapsed on her knees, staring at the car's burning wreckage with wide, desperate and tear filled eyes. A man – Gene – ran in front of her and went to hold a little girl close, he held her hand and soothed down her blonde hair. A red balloon drifted away towards the clouds. Before Molly could even register the scene, or call out to her Mum, the blackness descended. _

* * *

"_We could have saved them, Gene; we could have stopped that happening to them... They could have lived. Alex Price could have grown up with her parents. They could have lived to see their little girl grow older. We could have stopped it, Gene."_

_Her Mum and Gene were sat together on the couch in the flat above Luigi's. Molly hovered in her usual corner, and the low lighting of the room illuminated her Mum, curled up against Gene's side, her head resting on his chest. His arms were around her, holding her close. She watched as he looked down at her Mum and silently pressed his lips to her temple. _

"_I know, Bols... I know." He sounded defeated too, and almost as devastated as her Mum did. "We lost this one."_

_Her Mum lifted her head slightly to look at him, and again Molly felt like she was watching something private, something that should just be shared between the two of them. _

"_I wish Molly was here, Gene... I don't want her to grow up like I- like Alex Price will." Her eyes filled with tears, and Gene pulled her closer to him, so her head was buried in the crook of his neck. Molly only just caught her next words, mumbled against Gene's skin as he rubbed soothing circles into the base of her back. "I just want my little girl back with me, Gene..." _

_The blackness swamped her just as quickly and suddenly as before. _

* * *

_The scene was Luigi's again this time – the chairs and tables familiar, the Italian music filling the air, just as it always did. Molly stood, looking on as her Mum sat and drank with Gene and her friends, the other members of CID. She looked happier now, a smile on her face at least, but there was still a lingering look of sadness in her eyes that Molly could pick up on. Then, the sound of chatter and clink of glasses and scraping of chairs that sounded in her ears faded away, and Molly heard the voice again... the Jamaican lilt was soft this time, and she had a feeling the words weren't exactly meant for her. _

'_Take the long way home...'_

_And then, the voice grew louder, and Molly felt warm breath by her ear, as though whoever the voice belonged to was stood right behind her, a warm, comforting presence. He spoke to her, the words clearer this time, and she knew he was speaking directly to her. What he said was the same as last time, and the words chimed in Molly's ears. _

'_When you can feel, mon brav, then you're alive. When you don't feel, you're not.'_

_Molly turned, eyes wide, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever had been stood behind her. But even as she turned, she felt the trattoria around her melt away, and she was met with nothing but darkness._

* * *

_**And that's it for now! :D Just to warn you, the next chapter will be the penultimate one, so this story is nearing its end! Thank you very much for reading, and please review – they make my day!**_

_**X =D**_


	12. Numb

_**Thank you all so much for the reviews! I really appreciate them. :D Anyway, here's the last but one chapter, I hope you like it! It might come across as a little fragmented, but I'm trying to sort of get across that Molly's isn't feeling completely 'in it' anymore, if you get what I mean...? **_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – Ashes to Ashes is nay property of me. :P **_

_**Chapter 12 – Numb**_

* * *

_Thursday, 17__th__ August, 2008_

When Molly first stood up that morning, she felt lightheaded. The fuzzy, numb feeling in her brain continued as she found her way into her en-suite bathroom and stepped into the shower. She wasn't sure how long she stood under the forceful spray of water, not even bothering to pick up the soap, but it must have been a long time. She only noticed that the water had gone cold when the bathroom stopped steaming up, and when she noticed goose-bumps rising on her arms. Molly felt in a daze, trapped in a trance that she couldn't pull herself out of, and the only word that kept circulating her thoughts, that kept lingering on her lips, was _suicide_.

She wanted to be alive; she wanted to be with her Mum again, where everything was vibrant, and happy and real. It was ironic that in order to wake up, she had to die... It didn't make sense. Molly didn't know what to do, but what else was there to consider? The evidence was astounding, it all stacked up... Sam Tyler had been run over – he went back in time. He had committed suicide by jumping from the top of a building and gone back again. Her Mum had been shot and later died in hospital, and she was back in time with Gene Hunt too. So why shouldn't it work for her? Molly wondered how many others there were; how many others had died and found themselves living in the past? The other people she saw her Mum with in that world, were they dead in this one too? Gene? Ray? Chris? Shaz? Where had they all come from?

Letting out a long sigh, Molly finally turned the water off and grabbed a towel, wrapping it tightly around herself as she sank down onto the bathroom floor, barely feeling the cold tiles underneath her wet skin.

Could she do it?

Could she really kill herself? Could she really go through with it, commit suicide, to be with her Mum? What if it didn't work? What if she just died, and then it would all be for nothing... It was a moment before Molly realised there were tears of frustration in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks as she buried her face in the towel, holding back sobs. A wave of desperation suddenly crashed over her out of nowhere, her Mum's face's swimming in front of her eyes, blurry through tears. She looked just about as desperate as Molly felt.

A knock on the bathroom door made her jump, and her hand immediately flew to wipe any lingering tears away.

"Molly?" It was her Dad. "You okay in there, honey? Just wondering what you want for breakfast before we head off into Manchester."

Molly took a second to compose herself. She sniffed, pushing back more tears and pulled herself upright again. "Yeah, um, I'm fine... And toast is fine. I'll be down in a minute," she replied through the door.

"Okay then."

She listened as she heard his footsteps get further away, and finally let out a long sigh of relief. As she pulled the towel around her again, Molly caught sight of herself in the mirror and paused, staring back at her reflection. She looked different now... Older, but not in a good way. Her eyes were dull, slightly red from where she had been crying. Her skin was pale, and stretched a little more than it should be over her cheekbones. The way her wet hair hung heavy down the sides of her face didn't help, and Molly couldn't help but think she looked like nothing more than a mere ghost. If someone had just glanced at her reflection in the mirror, they'd have had to look twice. For the first time, she realised it was no wonder everyone looked at her with such worried expressions on their faces. She was fading to grey.

Swallowing, Molly looked away from the mirror and made her way back through to her bedroom. She dressed quickly and dried her hair, taking care to pull it back into a neat ponytail. She even did something she hadn't done for a long time, not since her Mum died. After rooting through her still not completely unpacked bags, Molly found the small pink purse that held the little makeup she owned. It had only ever really been used for special occasions like Birthday parties, but looking at her pale, drained face, she decided she might be in need of it. After inexpertly applying a little concealer, mascara and lip-gloss to liven her expression up a bit, Molly stood in front of the mirror and decided that perhaps she didn't look like quite such a ghost as she had a few minutes before. At least now she looked alive.

* * *

Both Pete and Judy had to suppress surprised grins of relief as Molly wandered into the kitchen and offered them a small, brief smile. She looked better than she had in weeks, dressed in skinny jeans and a fitting T-shirt, the slight touch of makeup doing wonders to make her face look that little bit brighter. They sat down for breakfast together as usual, but this time, it was different. For the past few weeks, breakfast had been a silent, tense affair. A black cloud had loomed over the table, and Molly's face had more often than not been graced with a scowl, or simply a dull, apathetic expression as she stared at her uneaten food.

Judy almost choked on her tea when the usual silence was unexpectedly interrupted by the sound of Molly's voice.

"Are we driving in, Dad, or taking the train?"

Pete looked up at his daughter, the surprise evident on his face for just a split second before he smiled. "We'll drive in. Parking's a bit of a nightmare, but it's easier. You ready to hit all the shops?"

Nodding, Molly smiled slightly again and returned to her toast whilst both her Dad and Judy stared at her, amazed. The two adults exchanged glances and smiled before looking back at her. Finally, they both thought. They were finally making some progress.

* * *

The hot summer's day had brought all the crowds into the centre of the city, but Molly didn't really mind. It was the first time she had visited Manchester, and she loved it. Not as much as she loved London, but it reminded her of the busy city she called home, and made her feel a bit more like she belonged. The sun was out and high in the sky, but for some reason, she couldn't really feel its warmth.

"So, where to first, Molls?" her Dad asked as they stopped in the high street and she looked around. There were people everywhere, of all ages, and down the street there was a band playing for money, the music filling the main shopping area.

"I don't mind," she said, looking back at him. "Wherever."

"You seem a bit happier today, Molly," Pete said, slightly cautious, as they wandered towards the nearest fashion store, already full of teenagers and some parents.

But Molly just nodded and made her way over to some summer dresses she liked the look of. She remembered how her Mum used to get her to try everything on, and when there was no-one else in the changing rooms, she'd go a bit wild and get Molly doing a catwalk. They'd had the best girly days out together. Maybe, she thought, maybe they still could have girly days out together, if only she had the courage to...

Pete's voice broke through her thoughts. "That's nice. Do you want to try it on? I'll wait out here."

Molly smiled and nodded, picking up her size. "Yeah, okay. I'll just grab a couple of those tops over there, too."

* * *

The day went on, and soon Molly was carrying a good number of shopping bags in each hand. The tentative smiles she had been giving her Dad all day had gradually started to feel more natural. She was truly grateful for all the effort he was putting in to make her happy, and she knew it was wrong of her to have been so spiteful towards him after her Mum died. He was just trying his best. Even if it still wasn't quite good enough. Because her Mum was the best, and no-one would ever be able to replace her. But she shouldn't have accused her Dad of trying.

However, despite the new clothes, sunny weather and warmer attitude Molly had towards her Dad, it still didn't change anything. It just made it harder to want to leave. But it didn't change the fact that she still longed desperately to be with her Mum, it didn't change that she knew that she would do anything to get to that world. It didn't change the fact that this was more like a dream, only nicer than usual, and Molly was just counting down the hours until she could wake up again. And her thoughts never strayed far from the same question that had been haunting her ever since the previous night...

Could she do it?

Could she commit suicide? Could she really kill herself to wake up in that world? Every time she found herself asking the questions, a chill ran down Molly's spine and she felt guilt twisting within her like a knife. She couldn't do that to Evan, could she? Couldn't do that to her Dad. She even felt guilty for thinking of putting Judy through the devastation she knew her death would cause... But what if it was worth it? If she got to be with her Mum, in the world where she knew she felt truly alive and happy, then wouldn't it be worth it? Her Dad and Evan would know that she was going to where she would be happier, she'd make sure of that...

The desperation to be reunited with her Mum again, now that she knew there was a way to make that happen, was almost overwhelming for Molly now. It was like a physical ache that she carried around with her, every minute of that day she spent in Manchester with her Dad. Because as grateful to him as she was, she couldn't shake the thoughts that it should be London she was shopping in. It should be her Mum paying for the clothes she wanted; they should be eating at a little cafe, because her Mum didn't like her having McDonalds much... This trip didn't change anything. She wanted her Mum, more than anything else in the world. And, Molly realised, she would give anything to be with her. The conviction of her realisation was earth-shattering, as they made their way towards the cinema in the afternoon. Because none of this really mattered, she realised. What she really wanted was her Mum, and she would give anything to be with her.

Including her life.

* * *

It was then that Molly spotted it. Her Dad had paused to answer a phone call, and a building at the end of the street, on a corner, caught her eye. She wasn't sure why it was familiar at first, and then she remembered. Annie's photos. This had been the pub she, Gene Hunt, and the other two men – Chris and Ray – had been stood outside. _The Railway Arms_.

And just like that, a switch clicked in Molly's brain. As if in a trance, she wandered away from her Dad and down the street towards the pub. It was shut down and boarded up now, probably due for demolition sometime soon, and some of the letters were missing from its signage, but Molly recognised it all right. It was definitely the pub from one of Annie's photographs – the pub that had been their local all those years ago.

As she reached it, Molly glanced behind her to see her Dad still on the phone, slightly facing the other way. He hadn't noticed that she'd wandered off yet. She looked back at the pub and moved to one side of the doorway. One of the windows hadn't been boarded up and she could see inside. She peered through the grimy glass, her hands gripping the window sill tightly, as though to stop herself from fainting. Her knees felt suddenly very weak, a lump getting stuck in her throat as the mind-blowing reality of the situation crashed down on her. This was the Railway Arms, the pub Sam Tyler had drank in. His world was _real_, and so was her Mum's. Molly had believed it for a long time, but now this was proof. Earth-shattering, terrifyingly real proof that time travel was possible, and she _could_ go back to be with her Mum again. If she was strong enough.

Molly's mind was racing at one thousand miles per hour, her thoughts barely coherent but making perfect sense as she stared at the darkened interior of the pub, her knuckles burning white as she gripped the windowsill. The numb feeling had returned to her head again, and as she lost herself in the revelation that it was all real – that her dreams were most definitely more than just dreams, and that she _would_ give anything to be with her Mum again, Molly wasn't even aware of all sound draining away around her. All she could see was the pub, and all she could hear were her own thoughts.

It was only Pete's loud shout that slammed her back down to earth.

"Molly, what are you doing? You know better than to wander off. You're bleeding!"

His loud, shocked voice took a while to penetrate her trance-like state, and when her brain finally did register the meaning of his words, Molly slowly looked down. Her knuckles were whiter than she had ever seen them, clutching the windowsill so hard, as though she was anchoring herself to the pub, scared it might dissolve away from existence. And seeping out from between her fingers was blood, staining her skin crimson, as for the first time, she noticed the crushed, broken glass on the windowsill. Very slowly, she turned her head to meet her Dad's gaze, barely registering the look of confused, shocked horror on his face. And then she said four words, her tone distant but tinted with joyous realisation. Just four words, as a small, wondrous smile spread across her face.

"I can't feel it."

* * *

_**Hm... Not sure if I've gone too Life on Mars at the end there, but I hope this chapter was okay! Thank you very much for reading, and please review! Just one more chapter to go. **_

_**X =D**_


	13. Alive

_**So sorry this last chapter has taken a while to get to you! But I'm back at school now, so yeah... Things have gotten a bit hectic again! :D I just want to thank you all for your reviews, and I hope you've enjoyed this story! I've really liked writing a Molly-centred one for a change. Anyway, without further ado, I give you the final chapter... **_

_**X =D**_

_**Disclaimer – No matter how hard I wish, Ashes to Ashes still doesn't belong to me. :P **_

_**Chapter 13 – Alive**_

* * *

_Friday, 18__th__ August, 2008. _

Molly swallowed, gripping the tape recorder tight in her hand. She stared at her reflection in the mirror; confident gaze trained straight forwards as she clicked the record button, and began to speak.

"My name is Molly Drake. My Mum was shot and went back in time, leaving me in 2008. Every night I have dreams about her; in the dreams, she solves cases and fights crime with a team of people I've never met before. But they're real. I know now that my dreams aren't just dreams, and this world, this life, is just an illusion. In the dreams, I feel alive. Everything is more colourful, more vibrant, and my Mum is there. I'm not mad, or consumed by grief. I know exactly what I'm doing, and I wish there was another way, but there isn't. This is the only way I can get back to my Mum. And I _will_ go back. I'm determined to fight to see her again. Because today isn't the day I die. Today is the day I wake up."

She swallowed again, her gaze still boring into itself in the mirror. She breathed deeply. "I don't understand how my Mum went back in time, or how Sam Tyler did either, but they did go back. Ask Annie Tyler. I don't know why I started having the dreams either, the dreams that helped me to realise that for me, this isn't my reality. That world, with my Mum and Gene Hunt, is my reality now. At night, I don't go to bed to fall asleep. I go to wake up. And I don't understand how that's possible, or how or why it works that way, but it just does. I've often found myself wondering if this has ever happened to anyone else, or whether Sam Tyler was the first one. I doubt it. I'm making this tape because I didn't want to say all this stuff on the other ones – they're more... personal. They're my goodbyes, if you like. This is more a record of what has been happening to me over the past few weeks since my Mum died, and so that at least someone will know exactly why I have to do this.

"I know I've already said, but I have to make this clear. I'm _not_ crazy or going insane or driven mad by grief. The dreams are real, and I have proof that the world I see there, where my Mum is alive, is real. Like I said, if you don't believe me, talk to Annie Tyler. Her husband was Sam Tyler – the same Sam Tyler who committed suicide in 2006. He went back in time to the seventies and lived there for nearly ten years."

Here, Molly's steady, confident voice began to waver a little, and she watched in the mirror as tears built up in her eyes.

"My Mum used to say to me, 'I love you more than anything else in the whole wild world'. She said wild instead of wide because she said it _was_ wild, and you could never predict anything. I know now, more than ever, exactly what she meant. I love her more than anything else in the whole wild world too, and I would give anything to be with her again. So that's what I'm doing. If anyone listening to this can work out how or why this has happened, or what caused my dreams, or if this has ever happened to anyone besides my Mum and Sam Tyler, then I'll be glad. That's what I've made this tape for. Not to say goodbye, but just to... explain. In the hope that if this does ever happen to anyone else, they might have a bit more to go on..."

Turning her head slightly as the tape quietly whirred on, Molly watched as the sun just started to peer above the horizon, signalling the start of a brand new day. Sunlight crept up the long lawn at the back of the house, bathing the grass in its soft golden glow. She smiled slightly, and looked back at her reflection, her thumb moving over the stop button on the tape recorder. She swallowed once more, and pressed it.

* * *

Half an hour later and Molly slipped out of the front door, closing it as quietly as she could behind her as she headed off down the road. The sun was still slowly rising in the sky; it wasn't even six yet so no-one else was up, just as she had hoped. Despite the warm summer morning, Molly had the hood of her jumper up and the sleeves were pulled over her hands, just leaving her fingertips visible, still cut up from the glass on the windowsill of the Railway Arms. The BlackBerry Evan had given her for her birthday weighed heavy in her pocket. She had run her scarred hands under the hot tap too that morning, and again, the same thing happened. Or rather, didn't happen. There was no pain. She couldn't feel it. The mysterious words from her dreams drifted back to her again –

_When you can feel, then you're alive. When you can't feel, you're not._

And now, it was as simple as that.

* * *

Her bed was made, the duvet pulled pristinely over the mattress. Everything else was perfectly in its place, the curtains pulled back and surfaces free of dust as though the room had never been inhabited at all. But on the bed sat a small box, just waiting to be discovered. Inside were four cassette tapes. The first was labelled 'Evan', the second 'Annie' and the third, 'Dad'. The fourth one was unlabelled, meant for anyone who wanted to listen. The sun streamed in through the window onto the bed, a shaft of bright light falling across the box, making it appear as though it was sat in the spotlight. A post-it note was stuck to the top of the box, a single word written on it.

_Sorry. _

* * *

At the train station, every stranger was a potential threat to her plan. Molly tried to speak to as few people as possible, using the electronic machine to purchase her ticket into Manchester and keeping her head bowed so as to avoid meeting anyone's gaze. She didn't know when her Dad or Judy would find the tapes and how long it would take them to contact the police, and she didn't want people to see her and recognise her later. It was only when she was finally on the train, sitting in an empty carriage, that Molly's hands began to shake. She was trembling all over as fear started to creep up on her; her unconscious was screaming with protest at what she was intending to do and she kept swallowing, trying to wet her throat and dispel the lump rising up at the back of it.

What if it didn't work? What if she didn't wake up? What if she just died, and then... that was it? It would all be for nothing.

But firmly, Molly told herself to stop worrying, and tried to push the rising panic and fear away. This was no time for second thoughts. She didn't want to be known as the melodramatic girl who let everyone think she was going to commit suicide, but then didn't. It would work. She would see her Mum again, feel her arms around her, snuggle up with her in bed again and have girly shopping trips once more. Her Mum had died and gone back in time, so had Sam Tyler, and Molly was sure, countless others. It would work for her too. She wouldn't have had the dreams if she didn't have some connection to that world too, if she didn't belong there as well. She felt alive there. Here, she felt dead. It was as simple as that.

* * *

This was it. This was how it was going to end. Or, as Molly saw it, this was how it was going to begin. She was ready to wake up.

She stared down at the people below, the few early birds walking the streets of Manchester, and then lifted her gaze to look across at the city skyline. For the last time, she took in the sight of twenty-first century architecture – the modern glass and metal structures blended in with the older concrete buildings, the blocks of flats in the distance at the fringes of the city. She smiled, as though seeing the world for the first time. Molly stood there for a while, just feeling the gentle breeze in her hair, the morning sun on her face. The sensations she felt were only half experienced though, and were nothing compared to the sort of warmth she could feel against her skin when she was stood in Luigi's; the colours of the vast city landscape before her were nowhere near as vibrant as they were when she was awake.

Her clenched fists slowly uncurled, and she lifted her head again, holding it high as she smiled once more. A sense of total and utter peace washed over her as she breathed in the fresh air, closed her eyes, stepped forwards...

"_MOLLY_!"

She jumped backwards, whipping her head around. Her Dad was running, racing towards her, Judy and some uniformed policemen not far behind.

"Don't you even _dare_!"

But he was still too far away; he would never reach her in time. Molly knew that; she was in control here. The anguished look of desperate despair on her Dad's face said that he knew it too. The knife of guilt twisted in her stomach once more and Molly felt tears misting up her vision. They slipped slowly and forlornly down her cheeks as the breeze blew her hair back from her face. She felt choked up, guilt wracking her body. But she had to do this. This was it. Time to stop sleeping, time to stop walking around in a dreamlike haze.

Time to wake up.

Her Dad was nearing her now, reaching out towards her as though trying to summon his daughter towards him. Molly drew in a deep, staggered breath.

"I'm sorry, Dad..." She turned back to face the modern Manchester skyline again, only her head turned so that her gaze connected with her Dad's, her eyes shining with guilty, apologetic tears. "I'm so sorry."

And then, she took a step forwards, threw her arms out, and fell peacefully, gracefully, off the edge.

* * *

On the street below, a young woman watched with tear-filled eyes as she watched the twelve-year fall through the air, eyes closed and arms spread out as though she was just flying, soaring to some unknown, wonderful land. A loud, raw, heart-wrenching cry of anguish came from the top of the building; a man was stood on the edge, staring, wide-eyed and shocked, as his daughter carried on falling, and falling, plummeting towards earth.

"_MOLLY_!"

Tears dropped from the corners of the young woman's eyes and slid down her face in salty streams. She swallowed and turned away, making her way back down the street, away from the building, away from where the twelve year old girl was now laid, arms still spread out, a faint smile still on her face. Like an angel.

Wiping away her tears, Molly Hunt turned the corner and a small, watery smile graced her lips. Because she knew that today wasn't the day that the twelve year old girl died. Today was the day that girl finally got to live.

* * *

_***Crosses fingers tightly* I really, really hope that was okay! I've never really written anything like that before, so I hope it was alright, and not too melodramatic or cheesy or anything! If it was, please don't hesitate to tell me. Like I said, I've never written anything like that before, so constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated! I hope you've enjoyed the story as a whole though, and please leave me one last review!**_

_**X =D**_

_**P.S – I do have plans for a short sequel to this story, so let me know if you'd be interested in that or not. :D **_


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